Bound by Blood
by Lizzie's last night
Summary: Being the BWL was never a big deal for Harry, but when people start dying, Harry starts to wonder if the past is coming back to haunt him. All he wants is to follow in Sirius's footsteps and become an Auror, but he has to get through DADA when his professor, the mysterious Tom Riddle, seems to have a personal vendetta against him. SLASH! VAMPIRE FIC! HP/TR!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

 **Hey guys, remember me? This is a lose remake of "The Garden of Eden." I had written that story when I was 15/16 and can't stand to read it anymore. I'm in college now for accounting and have found myself in need of a creative outlet. I was going to continue my other story, but I can't bear it, so I have decided to begin anew.**

 **This is going to be very different from the other story I have written, I have this story (or part 1 of it) all planned out, but I love suggestions to help improve it.**

 **Getting to the Story, enjoy it. Please review, I am very nervous as I haven't written anything in years. I would love to hear if you like it more than my old story and what you like that's changed. My creative writing hasn't improved much but I hope its at least more coordinated than the order version.**

 **I have read through the comments of Garden of Eden and noticed that the vampires and Harry weren't super like-able. Harry had a different childhood than Canon Harry so I'm trying to reflect that as much as I can in this fic, he is more confident. I hopefully made Tom more relate-able but his POV won't be shown until chapter 2.**

 **Pairings:** HP/TR, Sirius/Tonks, Harry/Draco (will not last very long or be a big part of the story), More will be added/revised as the story progresses.

 **Rating: MA**

 **Summary:** When Voldemort died, Tom Riddle found a… different way to survive. Harry is the boy who lived, has lived a normal life with Sirius as his guardian, and is going to follow in his footsteps and become an Auror if he could just figure out his DADA professor…Tom Riddle. People are dying, and the past seems to be unwilling to stay dead. **AU Harry, slight Dumbledore bashing (Not much), Slash, Vampires**

 **Hello to my new and old readers,**

 **And its nice to finally be back.**

 **Chapter 1:**

The village of Little Hangelton was quiet, nestled in between forest and farm country, its residents asleep in the small hours of the night. The night was dark and cool, the soft patter of rain was the only sound to be heard in the village and dim streetlights were the sole source of light along the dreary, worn roads. The villager's homes were dark as the town slept, unaware of the struggle going on within their walls.

An shrill cry pierced the calm night as a man streaked through along the street at full speed, running towards the inn that stood at the head of the village, standing taller than the dark rooftops. His head whipped from side to side, scanning the area with panicked eyes, as he clutched his wand in a shaking hand. His blurred reflection could be seen as he passed the shop windows along the road, his only company in the eerie night. The night air was cold on the back of his neck and he knew he was bleeding out at an alarming rate but couldn't slow down or else _they_ might catch him, he supressed a shudder hurrying himself forward.

Calls from an owl in the forest beyond the town were the only sounds permeating the air, the man wondered if he had somehow shaken off his assailants. Hope renewed some energy in his sore limbs and he knew if he had made in to the inn, the inn he had arrived in only that morning, then he would make it to the Floo-connected chimney and escape. As the thick wooden door of the building arrived before him, his eyes began to haze-over from blood loss, but he was intent on survival and shook his head to clear the fog. He had survived Voldemort and the death-eater trails, he was able to overcome this too.

With a gleam in his eye, he grasped the bronze handle and heaved the door open. For a glorious moment he saw the empty tavern with a large chimney at the far end, but abruptly the floor slammed shut from his grasp and he was facing the worn wooden door once more. Panic flooding his heart, he grabbed the handle and pulled with all his might but couldn't budge it.

Terror flooding him, the man turned to face the dark night behind him. "Lumos," his lips were trembling, and he was becoming very aware of the amount of blood flooding from the wound on his neck.

The streets were eerily quiet, the soft patter of rain the only sound to be heard aside from his own raspy breath. The forlorn streets were bare, there was no one near to have shut the door so abruptly on him. The man took a calming breath, his mind whirling with fear, he gasped try to find the right spell to open the door.

The man was losing too much blood, he needed to get help _now_.

With one last scan of the area he turned back to the door and wheezed, "Bombarda!" His choice of spells was less conspicuous than he would have liked, but he was beginning to panic and needed to get inside. The lock exploded, and the door swung off its hinges, bringing a sigh of relief to the man as wood chips landed in the puddles at his feet. He felt his panic subdue.

Blood-soaked hands wrapped around his neck, tearing at his wound, and the last image he saw was deep red eyes as he was pulled in the darkness behind him. A shrill scream that turned into a murmur was the last sign of a struggle in the dark night.

The owl called softly into the air as the night was calm once more, and rain pattered into the puddles in the street, washing away the smears of blood from stone.

Harry Potter did not enjoy defence against the dark arts.

He didn't enjoy the fact that the class had a new professor every year, or if it was because he learns more from the books he gets from Hermione, or maybe because it was the last class before supper and he was in a foul mood from lack of food in his belly. His stomach rumbled softly, and he tapped the end of his quill on his textbook, perusing the students around him to see if anyone heard, yeah it could just be because he was hungry. Harry observed the other students who were busy copying notes from the lecture, even Ron had his unkempt red head down jotting along his parchment which gave Harry a twinge of amusement. Maybe, he thought, it was just the current professor that he didn't quite care for yet.

Harry followed Ron's gaze up beyond the bobbing heads of students trying to listen to the lecture while taking notes and rested upon the tall professor speaking at the front. Harry sprawled further in his chair and lazily regarded his newest DADA professor. Tom Riddle had previously taught Alchemy but after losing the last DADA professor the previous year, Headmaster McGonagall offered him this position. The students, specifically the girls, were excited at the news as not many were interested in taking Alchemy but still wanted to have the man as a professor.

Harry watched as the man described the list of counter-jinxes that they were expected to become familiar with over the term. Riddle's robes were immaculately kept, and Harry wondered with a spark of annoyance if he had cast a spell so repel dirt from coming anywhere near his impossibly spotless form. The professor had perfectly kept ebony curls and his dark piercing eyes gave him a stately appearance as if he were a living statue. Harry felt the man had a cold, intimidating air that left him with a bad taste in his mouth. The man was standing at the front, addressing the class with a clear baritone, and Harry turned to his other side and caught Hermione drinking in the words as if they were pumpkin juice and she was parched.

Of course, girls would be drawn to the professor's shallow good looks, Harry rolled his eyes bitterly and flashes of Gilderoy Lockheart met his eye but refused to feel intimidated by the man he needed to help him through his NEWTS. He shook his head and attempted to focus on what the tall man was teaching, pushing away his thoughts in an effort to give the man the benefit of the doubt.

" _A counter-jinx is a name a wizard gives his spells to make them sound more friendly_ , as quoted by Wilbert Slinkheart, the author of _Practical Defensive Magic and its use against the Dark Arts_. These counter-jinxes are important in themselves but also are the basis of many advance spells for those who fancy the idea of furthering the subject, they are a large part of the core of this class and to be considered as such in your studies." The man trailed his cold, dark eyes over the raptured faces of the students and lingered those who were not taking notes, Harry included. Harry suppressed a shudder as he held the loaded gaze for a moment, already beginning to realize he wasn't going to enjoy having Riddle as the professor for a class he needed to excel in to become an Auror. Harry shook his head, he wasn't going to be intimidated, he was going to do well no matter how strict the new professor seemed to be. "For those who study these spells, they can be used to cause as much harm as the spells they counter, so they must be considered with caution."

Absent-mindedly, Harry rubbed his forehead and ran a finger over his infamous scar for a moment before allowing his fringe to fall, obscuring it once again. He hated the memento on his forehead from that night, the night the dark-lord was defeated by his infant self. Harry thought of the picture's his godfather kept of his parents and realized how lucky he was to have Sirius, the best friend of his late parents and his guardian after that night. After the family friend Peter Pettigrew betrayed Lily and James Potter, Sirius was all little Harry had left in his life. Harry knew that even though Sirius was an Auror, he was an excellent guardian and gave Harry the strength to deal with the notoriety that fateful night left him with.

Harry looked to his sides, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley sat both listening to the lecture with rapt attention, but Harry noticed the ginger was beginning to lose focus and doodle. They were his best friends, from the first time Harry stepped foot into Hogwarts, they were loyal and made him feel like 'Harry' instead of 'The Boy who Lived' which he appreciated more than the two would ever know.

Harry looked down as Ron placed a note on his lap, uncrumpling the paper and grinning as he saw the drawing. A rough picture of Harry catching the snitch was scribbled on the paper and Harry felt a chill of excitement run down his spine. Tomorrow was the year's first Quidditch game against Slytherin and he had practiced all summer for it. He and Sirius spent most of the summer at the Burrow, where Harry spent more time in the air than on his feet. It had been a glorious summer, the twins had begun testing products for their prank shop, Sirius began dating his partner Nymphadora Tonks which made him blissfully happy, and everyone had been in general good humor. This was one of the first years Harry was genuinely unhappy to return to Hogwarts, but he was excited to begin the studies for his NEWTS, so he could follow in Sirius's footsteps and become an Auror.

He grinned and began scribbling a note back to Ron.

"Mr. Potter, I am surprised to see that you do not much care for counter-jinxes, considering your reputation for finding trouble. But, of course, who needs to understand how to defend themselves when they can catch a Snitch fairly well?" Riddle's voice whipped Harry's eyes up from his detailed drawing of Slytherin team crying when they lose and caught the cold, dark eyes boring into him. The rest of the class turned their heads to look at him with surprise and he could see the smirk of a platinum blond sitting in front by the irritated professor.

Shock caught Harry's throat for a moment before he could feel anger pool in his stomach. He could feel Hermione's stern glare at him from his right and cleared his throat. "Sorry." He muttered in embarrassment, but some force compelled him to continue. To be fair, professor, my reputation also includes being a little better than 'fairly good' at Quidditch." Harry held Riddle's gaze indignantly, not wanting the man to see how much he had intimidated him. He cursed his stupidity momentarily afterward after seeing the man's ire.

Riddle's expression didn't change but his eyes gleaned with chagrin, clearly displeased with Harry's impertinence. Harry wished he didn't voice the smart retort as Riddle opened his mouth to scold him. "Was that supposed- "

"Just wait until the match tomorrow, Potter. You won't think you're so funny after Gryffindor gets creamed by Slytherin." All eyes turned to the blond-haired boy at the front with a victorious smirk on his face, the other Slytherins giving him praise for the quip at the expense of their rival house and its star Quidditch player. Draco Malfoy's mercury eyes bore into Harry's as he waited for the raven-haired boy's reaction.

At the challenge, the Irish student Seamus angrily stood up. "Yeah Malfoy, it was especially funny after Harry bested you to the Snitch _every time_ last year."

A chorus of angry shouts erupted in the class as the Gryffindors and Slytherins stood to defend the honor of their house. Harry felt Hermione jab him in the ribs as she shot him a poisonous glare for starting such an uproar during her new favorite professor's lecture. He winced and looked back up to see Draco smirking at him once more, ignoring the angry debate going on in the room. Harry felt his cheeks grow hot and his eyes fell to the blonde's mouth as he saw the pink lips mouth the word _tonight_. Harry pushed down the blush and glared angrily away from the blond.

Suddenly the room fell completely quiet.

Students exchanged panicked looks and grasped at their throats as they realized they had lost their voices. All eyes turned to the front of the room where Riddle was standing with a calm but annoyed glower, the air turned cold and the students sat quickly. Riddle murmured under his breath and the students felt the vocal cords work again but gave the man terrified looks and didn't dare utter a word. Harry was surprised the presence of control Riddle emanated, as his magic had so completely governed the room and the attention of those in it.

"Thank you, Mr. Potter, for wasting the time of all those in the room with your desire for attention." Harry hadn't ever felt more chastised in his life. "I do hope you keep the standard you have set for yourself at Quidditch because you have just lost Gryffindor 20 points. Now, we will continue with the lecture." The students in red cloaks groaned and Harry suddenly felt 3 feet shorter and glared down at his desk. The amused looks the Slytherins gave him didn't help the anger he felt growing in his stomach.

The rest of the class continued without excitement and Harry stared at his new least-favorite professor coldly the whole time. Close to the end of the class, Harry saw Ron drop another drawing on his lap. He grinned as he looked down and saw a detailed picture of a bludger cracking Malfoy in the head, knocking him off his stick-broom, but Harry didn't dare to reply with Riddle's attention focusing on him every minute or so.

As the class ended and students stood and began packing away their belongings, Riddle cleared his throat and commanded the attention of those in the room once more. "I want 7 inches of parchment describing what counter-jinxes you are most interested in learning about and why- due in tomorrow's class. This will be quite easy for those who cared enough to take notes." Harry felt the man's gaze fall on him and he looked up to see an amused grin on the stern man's face.

Angrily, Harry grabbed his pile of books and followed his friends out of the room.

Yes, it was the professor that made him not enjoy Defence Against the Dark Arts. He did _not_ like Tom Riddle.

Harry was in a foul mood as the trio made their way down to supper, anger coiling in his belly at what has transpired. His friends voiced their anger at losing so many house points so early in the year but only Hermione chastised him for it. "Harry, it's extremely irresponsible to start off on the wrong foot with Professor Riddle. Especially for such a silly reason."

Harry nodded shortly but didn't want to discuss the git so he followed the group in silence as they arrived at the Great Hall and took their seats at the Gryffindor table.

The great-hall was alive with excitement as students chattered happily, still recalling the excitement of their holidays. The first years were still beaming with glee at the feast that appeared before them, not used to the abundance of food yet. Harry watched a squealing group first-year students with a grin, remembering his own excitement in his first year at the feast that appeared out of thin air.

Harry turned his gaze upon the head table, absent-mindedly scanning the professors gathered for supper as he helped himself to a glass of juice. The headmistress was regarding the students with amusement and her eyes met Harry's for a moment, giving him an affectionate nod and continued inspecting the students. Harry liked the woman very much, she had become headmistress after Albus Dumbledore had died the year before Harry started school, which had devastated the wizarding community. Harry heard McGonagall had once taught transfiguration, which amusement the raven-haired boy as he remembered she-herself was an Animagus and could turn into a cat.

Harry scanned the head-table until his stare landed on the far end where his grin turned into a scowl. Riddle and Snape were sitting together, as usual, speaking quietly as they ate. Of course, the two least like-able professors would be friends, Harry thought bitterly and ran his eyes down Snape's dark figure. He knew the two professors were friendly, but Harry was still hoping that Riddle would be more likable than the greasy-haired git he associated with. He, evidently, was wrong.

Harry tuned into his friend's conversation as they were having a heated discussion about the Chudley Cannons, the professional team most of the Gryffindor house rooted for. Harry laughed as Ron heatedly expressed how he was going to become the keeper for their team one day, earning amused grins from his classmates.

"You have to be a good keeper for Gryffindor before you can think about the Pro's, mate." Dean Thomas laughed as Ron hit him in the arm for his snide comment but didn't lose his grin.

Ron's cheeks flushed as he retorted, "We won most of the games we played last year, didn't we? I'd say that's pretty good!"

"Yeah but that's because we've got Harry, Ronald." Hermione rolled her eyes as she looked up from the large textbook that she had been reading and earned nods of agreement from the rest of the group.

Harry looked at his friend and laughed and quipped, "Yeah, guys, maybe I should try out for the Chudley Cannons one day." The rest of the Gryffindors laughed and agreed and looked at Ron, his face turning almost as red as his hair. Harry squeezed his friend's shoulder, giving him an apologetic look for the joke.

Seamus, not missing a beat. "Yeah Harry, I do actually think you could make the cut! Shame though," he shot a look at Hermione with her nose again in the book, "that you couldn't play for Hermione's favorite team: Bulgaria. You and her boyfriend Viktor could be great friends." This was left with other amused grins and a few students swooned hearing the famous seeker's name.

It was Hermione's turn to blush angrily and set down her book, glaring daggers into Seamus and then Harry for laughing. "We did _not_ date! I attended one ball with him during the Tri-wizard tournament and we exchange letters from time-to-time!" She blushed harder as Lavender and Parvarti giggled and started gushing about how lucky she was, earning a heated glare from Ron who hated the guy. Harry shot Ron an amused look at the jealous expression on the ginger's face when discussing Krum.

Harry laughed and remembered how exciting the tournament was and how Hogwarts roared with pride when Cedric made it out of the Maze with the cup in hand, winning glory for their school. He shuddered, thinking about the tasks and wondering if he could have even survived such an ordeal if he was old enough to compete. _Definitely not with a git like Riddle teaching me defense_ , Harry thought angrily. Cedric had graduated and gone on to the Auror training program, inspiring Harry.

"Hey Harry, you have post." He was jerked from his thoughts when Ron beckoned to the owl that had landed in front of him.

Harry grinned and tossed the soft-white bird a piece of meat and grabbed the letter, "Thanks, girl." The owl hooted and nipped his finger affectionately and flew off.

"From Sirius?" Hermione asked, her blush finally subsiding from the teasing.

Harry nodded and ripped the letter opened, scanning it quickly.

 _Harry,_

 _I hope your first week back has been going well. Even if it hasn't, beating Slytherin tomorrow will definitely turn it into a great week!_ Harry laughed, grinning with delight and kept reading. _I managed to find the time off and will be cheering you on in the crowd, if anyone asks then I'll be investigating a case near Hogsmeade._ Harry laughed, hearing the wink in his godfather's words. _Do remember your old godfather before your victory party, I'll meet up with you after the game._

 _Sirius_

 _P.S, kick some Slytherin Butt_

Ron leaned over Harry's shoulder and scanned the letter laughing. Harry grinned and folded up the letter, sliding it into his robes. "Yeah, Sirius will be there."

"I love your godfather, he knows how to have a good time." Ron laughed with excitement. "He's worse than Fred and George though, I have to say!"

Fred leaned down from his seat further down the table, "Hey, we resent that comment."

George leaned forward, as well, and chirped, "Yeah, I do believe that _we_ are the worst." The twins grinned and resumed their conversation with their year-mates.

Ron rolled his eyes and swallowed the food he had shoveled into his mouth. "Yeah, the most annoying." He murmured low and checked to make sure they didn't hear him. A glob of potatoes landed in his lap anyway and the table burst into laughter. The twin's ears turned red but didn't look up from their conversation.

Harry laughed with the rest of the table as Ron angrily glared at his brothers. Hermione bit her lip to stifle a chuckle but spelled the food away. Harry's mood had completely changed, and he found himself glancing up at the head-table once more. Surprisingly, Riddle was looking down back at him and met his gaze. Harry flushed and tore his eyes away from the curious expression on Riddle's face, as if he wanted to know the joke, as well.

Harry excused himself from his friends on their way back to their common room, explaining that he had forgotten one of his texts that he needed. They offered to come to retrieve it with him, but Harry shook his head and stated he was going to grab it quickly. Reluctantly, the group of Gryffindors made their way up to their common room without him.

The raven-haired boy wandered through the halls, descending towards the dungeons. The hallways were empty as it wasn't far from curfew and most of the students had retired to their common rooms, so Harry enjoyed the warm evening air that wafted through the castle without disruption.

Until he was grabbed by the shoulders and pulled into an unused classroom.

Harry gasped as he was pushed roughly up against the cold, stone door of the classroom, his glasses skewed and a flash of blond hair before him. "Watch it, Malfoy!" He growled irritated, fixing his glasses.

The platinum blond Slytherin grinned and stood close enough that their faces almost bushed together, his silver eyes boring into him with captivated attention. Harry straightened his shoulders and started to fight back, green meeting grey with strength. Draco Malfoy was an arrogant pureblood and fought Harry on everything he did, his determination and sheer force of will had impressed Harry. The Malfoy heir was one of the only students who had ever dared be openly hostile towards the 'boy who lived' and it invigorated Harry, loving the challenge and excitement the boy offered.

Draco's cheek brushed against Harry's as he leaned in and whispered, "It's Malfoy now, is it? You call me a different name when I have your cock in my mouth." He pressed Harry against the door and nipped at his ear, his lusty tone and closeness sent jolts down to Harry's cock.

Harry shivered and felt adrenaline rush through him mixing with his arousal, grabbing the blond and slamming him against the desk opposite them. He claimed the fair-haired boy's mouth aggressively, his tongue persistent until it was granted access into Draco's mouth. Harry pressed himself roughly against the other and wrapped an arm around the boy's waist, the other tangling in Draco's platinum locks.

Draco gasped from the sheer force of Harry's assault on his mouth, momentarily shocked at the pressure on his lips. He felt his cock grow hard and the raven-haired boy ground his own erection against his. It consistently surprised Draco how Potter could completely turn him from a strong, confident heir to the Malfoy name into a complete and utter puddle of arousal, unable to think or even remember his own name.

Draco moaned loudly as they ground their arousal together, grabbing Potter's hips and digging his fingers in hard, earning a hiss from the beautiful Gryffindor. Everything they did was a competition and sex was no different, it was a contest for control and Draco loved losing just as much as winning. It was the same feeling Draco got while flying against Harry on the Quidditch pitch, the adrenaline of a worthy opponent, of proving himself against _Harry_. It was a feeling no one else could give him and Draco was addicted. That's what Harry bloody Potter was, addiction.

Harry was _Draco_ 's addiction that the blond boy never wanted to quit.

"Bloody Hell, Potter," Draco growled as Harry tore open his robes and grasped his cock firmly. Draco groaned and let his head fall back as Harry attacked his neck with kisses, bites, and licks. Draco's blond halo of hair fell around his head, his pale lips parted in pleasure. Harry found the spot he knew the blond was extremely sensitive along his collarbone and sucked, stroking his cock with vigor. Draco was a lustful mess and Harry loved seeing the effect he had on someone like Draco.

Harry fell to his knees and Draco almost screamed when he felt the raven-haired beauty's glorious mouth on his cock, sucking tightly at the tip while massaging his balls. Harry lapped up the blonde's precum happily and worked the entire length into his mouth, staring into the foggy grey eyes that were boring into him. Draco held onto his hair as if Harry was the only thing anchoring him to this world and groaned, feeling his orgasm building.

With a gasp, Harry felt Draco's cock throb and withdrew his mouth, finishing off the boy with his hand. Harry watched the fair-haired boy's beautiful face as he climaxed, marveling in his beauty. Draco shut his eyes and shuddered, he stood there for a few minutes massaging Harry's dark locks "Fuck, Harry. Your cock looks amazing around my cock." His face was flushed from his orgasm, feeling no shame in the statement.

Harry grinned and stood to give Draco a heated kiss, his own cock still hard. Draco grinned and fell to his knees, avoiding the mess he made on the stone floor. He felt his pulse began to rise again at the thought of sucking Harry's cock, no matter how many times he had done it, it was still a shock how perfect Harry was when aroused. He skillfully opened Potter's robes, appreciating the boy's lean muscle before landing on his cock.

Harry's cock was perfect and the perfect size in Draco's opinion, tanned with a red tip that begged to be sucked. Draco licked and sucked at Harry's balls, giving them the attention Draco felt they deserved before moving onto the prize. Draco licked along the length and looked up, locking his eyes with Potter's.

Oh God, Potter's _eyes_.

Draco felt himself stop as he gazed up at the most beautiful boy he had ever seen. They had been seeing each other often since their fourth year, beginning with just kissing up working the way into more and Draco still couldn't believe how gorgeous Harry's eyes were, especially clouded with lust. His emerald green orbs glowed with intelligence and power, highlighted by his unruly black locks. Draco felt a twinge of humility and possessiveness that he was lucky enough to have Harry this way and couldn't imagine the time when he still believed he hated the boy.

Draco was addicted to Harry and craved his attention, the blond-haired boy had resigned himself to this, feeling alive when Harry paid attention to him. Harry pushed him to be better, to excel, and Draco pushed himself to live up to keep up with the great Harry Potter. Harry never feel this way though, he gave Draco the most tender kisses on the blonde's worst days, during his failures and this is what motivated him to do better, to be better.

For Harry.

Draco moaned as Harry bucked into his mouth and shut his emerald orbs in an intense orgasm. Draco held tightly onto Harry's hips and drank in every last drop of his cum, savoring in the taste of the dark-haired beauty.

Draco stood and gave him a slow, lazy kiss. They stood there in each others' arms, blissfully kissing for a few minutes before Harry broke away and ran a hand through his messy hair. "Is that your apology for defense today?" He grinned playfully.

Draco rolled his eyes and grabbed his arms around the other's waist, "no apology needed, you cocky git." He said playfully. "You got on Riddle's hitlist in one of the first lessons, not the wisest move for someone wanting to become an Auror."

Harry's face darkened, and he pulled away, taking a step back. "I _know_ , I heard this already. I shouldn't have tried to be smart, but Riddle was being a git before my comment. I should have figured, he's close with Snape after-all."

Draco smiled apologetically and took a step closer to close the gap again, "It won't be that bad. I've heard that he is fair, he just doesn't seem to be much of a fan of Quidditch." He finished with a goofy grin that Harry wouldn't have believed possible for the blond before he got to know him.

Harry laughed and slapped Draco lightly on his arse. "I think you may be right. Or maybe, he doesn't like that Gryffindor is so much better than Slytherin in that regard."

Draco smiled mischievously and pulled Harry into a deep, sensual kiss. After he let go, Harry was breathless and felt his cock stir again. Draco smirked, "watch it, Potter. You're only so lucky because you're such a distraction."

"Maybe I'll have to start flying shirtless, it might help my team." Harry retorted back with a smile, enjoying the blonde's company immensely.

Draco smirked back and gave Harry a light kiss on the corner of the mouth. Harry marveled at how the Slytherin's skin glowed in the moonlight, how his grey eyes that are normally so hateful could become so affectionate. Harry groaned the _moonlight_. "It's late," he whispered against the blonde's mouth.

Draco looked out the window and nodded, "We should get going, we do have a game tomorrow after all." His grin fell slightly and looked at the door. They both listened quietly for a few minutes and couldn't hear any footsteps as they walked up to the door.

This had been their routine for the last two years and the pair hadn't been spotted yet. At first, Harry had been extremely nervous, only using his invisibility cloak and Marauder's map but after the ease of their meetings, he stopped bothering to bring them.

Harry gave Draco a quick kiss and opened the door quietly, stepping out into the cooler hallway. Harry marveled at how dark it had become and wondered how long they had spent together. Draco took a step to follow him out the door before they stopped in their tracks.

"Well Potter, you seem to be determined put Gryffindor into last place in just the first week of school." The two jumped at the bored baritone that pierced the otherwise quiet hallway.

Harry looked up to see Riddle walking soundlessly up to them, almost blending in fully with the shadows around him. The man was wearing full black robes, but the skin Harry could see was pale and almost glowing in the moonlight as if his magic was humming just under his skin in a way that was almost inhuman and made Harry's blood run cold. He felt Draco cower behind him and took in a deep breath, rubbing his palms on his jeans.

"I am sorry professor, we were studying and lost sense of time. It won't happen again." Harry spoke slowly, trying to emanate honesty in his words. He vehemently hoped the man would believe him and rumors of his trysts with the Slytherin wouldn't surface. Harry knew almost any professor would give them a slap on the wrist but allow them to leave, but he had already pissed off Riddle once today which didn't leave him hopeful.

Riddle's eyes gleamed and regarded the two sneaking out of the unused classroom with a knowing look. "I'm sure." His words dripped with sarcasm that stirred anger in Harry. "An odd place to study, I'd say. It is past curfew, Potter, 20 points from Gryffindor." Riddle's heavy gaze never left Harry as he addressed the blonde, "Draco, your godfather has told me what a model student you are. I do hope that this doesn't happen again or there will be _consequences_." Riddle finished, his cold gaze leaving Harry for a moment to emphasize his point to the blond.

Harry stood frozen for a moment, unable to use his throat to say anything and hating it. He hated the uneasy way Riddle intimidated him, he had never felt that way before and didn't know how to proceed. Riddle was a right bastard who was arrogant to take points away from Harry but not Draco because of house prejudice and a general dislike for the black-haired boy after class that day.

Riddle sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose, "don't just stare at me like a dead fish, get back to your dormitories! And no detours, Potter, or I'll know." He dismissed them with a wave of his hand.

Harry shot off, making his way quickly toward the Gryffindor tower and gave Draco and nod before leaving. Draco nodded back and walked off in the opposite direction, toward the dungeons. Harry's pace was quick, wanting to make it away from Riddle as fast as he could. Dark, cold eyes bore into his back until he made it to the end of the corridor and toward the stairs.

The dormitory was dark when Harry arrived, the room lit by moonlight only. He passed by the beds of his slumbering house-mates before sinking down into his own red duvet. Setting his classes on his nightstand and toeing off his shoes, Harry collapsed onto the bed, unable to find the will to change into his pajamas. The raven-haired boy stared at the canopy above him, trying to rekindle the giddy feeling he always had after parting ways with Draco, but it would not come.

Sighing in annoyance, Harry contemplated his new professor. Tom Riddle was a bastard, that was becoming clear. He obviously had a problem with Harry since the dark-haired boy voiced his smart comment in class, which was fair, but Harry figured he probably wouldn't like Riddle even if the class had gone smoothly.

Harry was confident, he gave respect when it was due, but he submitted to no-one and especially not some old git trying to get a reaction from him. The Gryffindor allowed his features to become contorted in a scowl, but the statuesque man had unnerved him so wholly and made his skin crawl. Harry figured Riddle must dabble in dark magic, as Harry knew he had become sensitive to it after he became the infamous 'boy who lived'. The trick Riddle pulled in class today, taking everyone's voices was one Harry wasn't familiar with and seemed to ooze power which could be a sign of dark magic. However, it was extremely unlikely Riddle would risk using dark magic inside the school, especially not on students. It didn't make sense to Harry that he was the only one to feel this way about the esteemed professor. Riddle was well-liked among the students and staff alike before Harry had him as a professor he heard nothing but praise for the man.

Surely, if Riddle _was_ a dark wizard, someone must have noticed? Harry thought of Riddle and Snape conversing over supper, surely someone who could enjoy that git's presence was a little evil themselves. But no, Harry sighed, none seemed to share in his theory or dislike.

Harry shivered as a cool breeze drifted through the room and climbed under his goose feather duvet, sinking into the warmth appreciatively. His thoughts began to blur as he felt sleep beginning to fog his mind and succumbed to sleep.

Harry knew he was dreaming.

He had been here before, more often as he aged, but his heart still softened when he laid eyes upon the small cottage. The worn stone walls were lined with flower-filled vines that nearly touched the low-hanging roof, Harry smiled softly and gazed upon his fairy-tale cottage, the windows were always bright, and the chimney had a light line of smoke whirling into the air above. Harry had been dreaming of this place all his life, and he still wasn't sure why his mind's eye saw fit to bring him here, but it calmed his soul more than anything he had ever experienced in his waking moments.

Harry dreamt of the cottage his whole life, but he had never been inside, his destination was the ancient oak tree just beyond. He took a few steps forward into the meadow and took in the sight of his oak tree, his branches hanging as if it were cradling the cottage below. Harry smiled and continued forward, to the wooden chairs set under the everlasting tree, facing the sunset, and was not surprised when one was already occupied.

The being was waiting for Harry, they were always waiting for him. With a calm demeanor, Harry took the seat he always did beside the ethereal figure. Harry never knew who they were supposed to represent to him, and he had never bothered to question it as they had only ever sat together calmly, sharing in the picturesque view before them.

It was always sunset here, and Harry felt his heart calm and warmth seep through his body as he watched, the oak tree a blanket from the world beyond them. He knew he should question why his mind chose this place to dream about, but the peace it brought him pushed all questions away, this place wasn't real, but it was his sanctuary. Harry was sure if he pressed their astronomy professor, he could learn the psychological reasons why he needed to create such a world to visit, but he didn't want to share this place.

Sitting there, with his unearthly companion, blanketed from the world, Harry could truly let himself go and drift off in the tranquility and safety of it all. This was his sanctuary, his 'garden of Eden' if you will, and he cherished the times his unconscious mind would bring him here. This place, where the air was always warm, the sunset was eternal, and he was never alone, felt more real than his real life at times. Though this place held such significance in his heart, Harry could never picture the place while awake, like grasping at air.

Harry turned to look at his companion, the figure who had been an integrated part of his unconscious mind for longer than he could remember and smiled softly as he saw their head tilt as if he were whispering some inside secret Harry would only understand. The wildflowers of the meadow billowed as a warm breeze filled the air, caressing Harry's cheek like an old lover.

Harry exhaled the warm air, gods he loved this place.

"I agree." The voice that faded into the breeze was like a soft music note, clear in Harry's head but lost in the air. Harry had never spoken to the figure before and found he couldn't hold onto the voice once it drifted off, unable to recall what it sounded like.

With a small gasp of surprise, Harry turned to regard his companion, who gave no indication that they had spoken at all. He wanted to hear the voice again, like water on a parched tongue, Harry wanted to prod the being into speaking once more. "Pardon?"

The raven-haired boy was met with no response and wondered if it had even happened at all. Harry got to his feet, trying to grasp anything he could from the being, anything he could hold onto, anything to prove that he really heard it. He felt his eyes beginning to burn and was surprised when his cheeks were cold from wetness. Harry had _heard_ it, it wasn't just a trick from his mind, his whole body had felt that musical voice. The words, the voice, they were meant only for Harry and belonged to him.

All too soon, Harry felt himself being pulled away, the world slipping through his fingers. He regarded his companion reverently, the first time they had ever acknowledged Harry hadn't been enough, it was a taste of the other side and he wanted more. The image the place melted away and Harry was left feeling cold in the darkness of dreamless slumber.

 **The end of chapter 1.**

 **I know that there are many unanswered questions, but they be answered soon enough! (One of them probably what happened to Dumbledore, but his story was not for Harry to tell *wink*wink*)**

 **I would really love to hear any thoughts you have, even if it is (I hate to say the word) criticism. When I say criticism, I mean constructive with actual reasons as to why you're unhappy with something, not just being an asshole for the sake of being an asshole.**

 **If this is worth continuing than please let me know.**


	2. How Dumbledore Died

**Hey guys! Thank you for the reviews! I know that it is pretty different than the last story, and as it goes on you'll see it more and more. I am trying to keep Harry/Tom slow paced until he gets closer to 17 so their dynamic is going to be kinda weird at first, but I promise you guys will start to like Tom more.**

 **Chapter 2**

Tom Riddle did not like Harry Potter.

The way the boy stared at him as if he was confused as to why Tom was angry, infuriated him. The arrogance that Potter basically oozed was obvious, he didn't need to pay attention and clearly, he didn't think he needed to follow the school rules. That boy, who had the _audacity_ to not pay attention in his class, who dared to give smart remarks and glare at him defiantly, the boy who dared to _live_.

Yes, Harry Potter, the boy who _lived_ , Riddle seethed with anger. He glided down the dark corridor soundlessly toward Snape's quarters, unable to rid those cocky emerald eyes from his thoughts. Riddle had seen the boy before, yes, he had been living in the same castle together since the boy's first year but had only observed from a distance. Tom watched the boy grow, always there in the shadows and he knew who Potter was going up to be. Riddle knew how arrogant the boy could be, how unyielding in his ideals, with unwavering determination in the tasks he turned his focus on but with Riddle, he was supposed to be different. He knew the deepest parts of the boy, his inner mind and soul that Harry didn't share with anyone, the boy who sat with him in their Elysium. Dark eyes closed as his mind's eye conjured an image of the oak tree, where he had spent so long watching the sunset with the raven-haired boy.

He didn't know what he expected when meeting Potter, but it certainly wasn't what he received. He didn't need to leave a good impression on Harry, once the boy came of age then it wouldn't matter, but Tom couldn't help but be angry with the boy's actions. Potter had strutted into his classroom as if he was going to any class, with any professor; the boy had given Tom his attention for the first few minutes of class before he started daydreaming and it infuriated Tom more than could admit. It wasn't in Tom's nature to be ignored, he commanded the attention of any room he was in, and he had even been looking forward to having his soul-mate's undivided attention for the first time.

But the damn boy hadn't felt anything, he had barely even noticed Tom and had the audacity to draw. When Tom saw the boy drawing, it was the last straw and he couldn't contain his anger.

Deep down, he knew Harry wouldn't recognize him as his dream companion, but he couldn't help but hope. Riddle shook his head, it wasn't time yet. He couldn't risk the Gryffindor learning of their soul bond and fleeing (even if he knew he could always track the boy down), so he had to wait until the blood magic left from his mother's sacrifice would be depleted and he could claim what was rightfully his.

Only one year left. The year, Tom knew, would be infuriating but he had to make the most of the time that was being forced on him. He had started off giving the boy the wrong impression, he would have to control his anger around Potter. Tom was seductive, Merlin knows he could have any witch he wanted, and he had to start using that talent on his Harry. It would have to be subtle, quite subtle at first, but with time Harry's soul would begin to recognize its twin and come to Riddle willingly.

An involuntary shudder ran down his spine as he imagined the boy before him, emerald pools glistening with trust and submission. He wanted it, he desired that to happen and so it would, because Tom Riddle would will it to. Tom felt determination fill his veins like steel, a characteristic that remained from the dark lord. Tom wasn't that man anymore, he wasn't Voldemort with his mindless cruelty in search for power; his bond with Harry, or perhaps his death, had changed him.

Tom was not the dark lord, he wasn't Voldemort. Voldemort spent years, decades cultivating his followers and power. He had graduated from Hogwarts and traveled, rallying the most powerful dark families from all of Europe to his cause. Those who thought themselves powerful and cunning and unconquerable, Voldemort had _owned_ , the power of himself and his magic was incontestable. Tom smirked at this thought, remembering Voldemort's power. Voldemort was the most powerful wizard in Europe, he was more than a man, more than a king.

Voldemort was a lord, he was feared and hated, he was obeyed. Lord Voldemort was eternal, enduring.

Then came that fateful night, when Voldemort had gone to make an example of the Potter family. The boy from the prophecy, the boy who dared to give people hope. Voldemort went to Godric's Hollow that night all those years ago to crush that hope with his power; the power that had become a legend, that made Voldemort a Lord, that owned everything and everyone he encountered.

Then came Harry Potter.

That baby, that had sat there quietly staring up at the Lord of darkness with his never-ending green orbs. The child had watched his mother die, unflinching, and stared up at the horror that had become Voldemort unfearingly. Tom remembered the boy's eyes as clearly as if he was still there that night in his mind's eye and remembered how they caused him to pause. Eyes that held magic beyond their years, a color Voldemort didn't believe could be natural, the color of the killing curse.

Harry Potter had looked upon Lord Voldemort in his full power, at the true scale of how far a wizard could fall into darkness and had found some small piece of Tom that still existed in the hurricane of madness and darkness he had become. Lord Voldemort felt something he believed he had left behind when he abandoned his filthy muggle name: he felt fear.

Something in that boy's eyes had made Lord Voldemort uneasy down to his core. So, Voldemort killed him, or he tried to.

Everything that had become of Lord Voldemort, all the power he had amassed, the knowledge, everything that _was_ the greatest dark lord of the modern era- was ripped apart in an instant. Those green eyes held onto that small part of Tom that still existed in the monster, and was his anchor through the storm that destroyed Voldemort, keeping him from falling to the abyss of death. Tom was nothing, he was all that was left after the hurricane of Voldemort, the fear, the sheer _emotion_ that was wrought upon him. Tom didn't know if he was even corporeal during that period, he didn't even know if he existed, and sometimes finds himself wondering if he even exists now. Tom was a memory, ripped apart by the forces that destroyed the dark lord, left clinging onto whatever part of life that he could grasp.

And what Tom Riddle could grasp, was blood.

Tom survived, he _endured_ , through the life of others. The magic that saved that green-eyed boy, that destroyed Voldemort, saved Tom Riddle. He was not fully a wizard, but he was not fully a vampire. Rather, Tom thought, something in between. He had lost so much power that night, so much. Tom shut his eyes bitterly, he had lost everything that was Voldemort. It was the vitality of other living beings that he held onto, his anchor through the Hurricane, and that anchor had been Harry Potter. It was because of Harry Potter that Voldemort died, but it was also because of Harry that Tom Riddle lived.

Fear, anger, _emotion_ ; something that Voldemort was bereft of, had shaken Riddle to his core. Affection, happiness, hope; these emotions were fleeting but still, Tom _felt_ them. It wasn't something he had fully accustomed himself to, and he knew he never would really understand them. Tom found himself staring at the sunrise with good humor, excitement at learning a new spell, and lastly, hope- all through Potter. The boy's soul intensified those emotions in Tom, to an extent that surpassed the capabilities of the original Riddle. Even before Voldemort, Riddle didn't have the emotional range that Tom did now. The raven-haired boy had granted him rebirth as easily as he had granted Voldemort death, molding him into someone new.

Harry Potter, Riddle thought the name angrily. The boy that somehow had forced himself into Tom's world so completely that Tom looked upon him and felt hope before he shoved the emotion down deep. He knew he would get his full power back once the boy reached the age of maturity, once the blood wards around him were finally lowered. The magic that had enforced their bond, that the child had unknowingly wielded, was something unknown to wizards but ancient in vampires:

Soul-mates.

The power that had fused the boy to him was what Tom believed turned him into a creature of the shadows, as the creature Tom now shared characteristics with was one with such a bond in their blood. Tom knew he couldn't live without the black-haired boy, but he also knew the boy couldn't live without him, as well. Harry's magic was tied to his own, he belonged to Tom. Tom didn't like the idea of being bound to someone, of his whole life being forced to revolve around someone but he understood the befits, after-all he is a Slytherin at heart.

Harry Potter was _his_ , Riddle thought jealously. Where Tom was weak, Harry made him strong and the same for him. They were two beings of the same soul and when Tom claimed the boy, he would become more powerful than Voldemort ever could have reached. But Potter, the blasted boy, was like a tidal wave himself and Tom found himself getting washed away in his blasted emotions when around the raven-haired boy. Riddle didn't know how to act, how to feel, around someone like Potter and he found it disconcerting; which, coincidently, only made him angrier.

And then, once he was already angry, the boy has the audacity to have a sexual relationship with another. Fury boiled in him, Harry shouldn't allow himself to even be touched by another, let alone in that way. Tom hadn't thought about the boy in that way; like Voldemort, he had found the idea of reducing himself to such an animalistic level repulsive and had never considered anyone worthy. He had watched Harry all his life and suddenly now, before Tom's eyes, the boy had become a young man.

Would he, after obtaining from such trivialities for his whole existence, desire such a relationship from Harry? He had pondered the idea before, but the boy had always been just that-a boy. Now, however, Riddle thought curiously, his raven-haired boy had become a young man. Tom knew he wanted to own the boy in every sense of the word; he knew he would want the boy's body, as well.

Would the boy want him?

Tom pushed the thought away angrily, unaccustomed with self-doubt, of course, Potter would want him. Even if he didn't, Riddle thought devilishly, he had ways of making him want it. Vampires had ways of making their victims want them, of course, but Tom knew how irresistible he was to others.

When he took his soul-mate and completed his soul, he could become greater than Voldemort ever was, and Harry had to be drawn to that. Riddle had emotion, he wouldn't make the same mistakes as his old self, he would be more calculating, he would be _better,_ and he would have Harry and his magic as well. It was just a matter of waiting, as the years pass Tom could feel the bond growing stronger and could feel the ocean of power, just past his reach.

Tom reached Snape's door and rapped loudly before walking in. The potions master was hunched over a cauldron, filling vials with the liquid and reminding him of a rather large bat. He nodded at Riddle but continued his actions careful to not disturb the potion. Riddle passed through the dark room to stand across the desk from the man, scrunching his nose when the pungent odor of potions ingredients assaulted his senses. The room was small and dark, just off of his classroom in the dungeons so it had little airflow with the lack of windows.

"Severus," He nodded in greeting.

Snape flashed his black eyes at the man before continuing, "Tom, you've arrived at a good time. I am finished your medication, and I renewed your supply."

Riddle grinned, pleased and swept to the locked cupboard, spelling it open. It was spelled to remain cold and excitement grew in Tom as he saw the bags of blood piled on the shelves. He grabbed one hungrily and tore it open and began sucking. As soon as the liquid touched his lips, he felt renewed energy fill him and he saw his skin begin to glow in the darkness, he had waited longer than he would have liked but the blood was appreciated.

Severus had discreet sources from where he got the blood and had been supporting Riddle since he began teaching at Hogwarts. Voldemort's followers did not know of Riddle's existence, so they relied on Severus's contacts to sate his hunger. The blood was a fresh as it could be, and kept his hunger at bay, Tom was still forced to find fresh blood about once a month.

After finishing two bags, Tom turned to see Severus finishing with his cauldron. The dark-haired man regarded his renewed form for a moment. "Did you come into my chambers in the last day?" He turned and leaned against his desk.

Tom's eyes narrowed for a brief moment and cocked his head, "Why, Severus, are you accusing me of something? I have no reason to break into your rooms when you supply me with everything I need already." He crossed his arms lazily, regarding the potions professor with the cocked eyebrow.

Snape shook his head and placed the vials of potion in an empty box he had laid out. "Of course not, my friend, but someone was in my quarters while I was in class and I am not sure who it was. It looked as though they were looking for something, but nothing was taken. I set up wards around my rooms to inform me if such a situation arises again."

Tom grinned amused, "Maybe the house-elves have a vendetta."

Snape didn't laugh, merely shrugged and the troubled look on his face morphed into a grimace. "What did you think of Potter? I'm assuming your first class went well."

Riddle's mood turned foul at the mention of the boy that he had come to Hogwarts to get close to. He shook his head and glared at the ceiling, "He is a _Brat_. He is cocky, sarcastic, and needs to be taught respect." He didn't much want to talk about the boy he somehow lost control of his emotions with.

Snape barked a laugh at that, "I am sure that in time you will teach him. He is rather mild-mannered in my class as of late. Can you control yourself with him?"

Riddle huffed and remembered how long he was stuffed in the same room as the boy, his blood calling out to him. "I am fine, but I imagine it'll become more difficult. I hate the way he ignores my lectures with an arrogance that I cannot bear, Severus. I want to shake him and make him _look_ at me, its infuriating." Riddle knew how pathetic he sounded, and he hated it. He hated who Harry made him, the cold mask he learned in Slytherin was almost impossible to maintain around the boy.

Snape gave him a sympathetic look. "You've made it through these years, my friend. There is so little time left and after that he is yours." The man's tone was light and made Riddle roll his eyes, he knew Severus didn't fully agree with what must happen. They had discussed it in length many times past but Riddle would not allow the man to interfere with his bond.

Tom had found Snape a few years after the fall, and while Voldemort had only had Severus' loyalty through fear, Tom had it through comradery. It was because of his emotions that he had come to care for his only friend, and he appreciated Severus in a way Lord Voldemort never could have. Severus understood his situation and stood by Tom when he wasn't sure who he could trust. Tom didn't have the power Voldemort had, not yet at least, and his old followers would try to destroy him for his weakness. Severus had helped him hide, had helped him survive these turbulent years.

Riddle knew that there was a very good chance Snape was manipulating him and keeping him close, but he appreciated the support despite the motives.

After sharing their days, Tom bid goodnight to the potions master and took his supply of appetite suppressant with him up to his corridor. Tom passed through the door he had found Potter and the Malfoy boy come out of with anger. Tom knew what had transpired, following Harry's scent there. He knew he was unable to do anything for almost two more years, but he still hated the idea of someone else touching what was his.

No matter, thought Tom with a devilish smile, he could still see a side of Harry that already belonged to him alone. He closed his eyes in meditation, as close as he could come to sleep.

!

Harry felt a rush of cold air below his feet as he soared through the air high above the Quidditch pitch. He had tuned out the crowd below and focused on the wind rushing through his air as he maintained his balance. It was late in the game and he had yet to see the snitch, he kept an eye on his fierce blond opponent who flew in circles looking for the little flash of yellow light.

Harry groaned loudly as he saw Gryffindor lose the quaffle once more, leading to another point for Slytherin and bringing the score seventy to twenty in favor of the snakes. Green flags were waved proudly as the crowd roared in excitement, which rallied the green team with fever and pushed all the harder for the win. Glancing at Ron, he was making impressive saves, but the red team just couldn't keep possession long enough for them to attempt to score, which put ever more pressure on their keeper.

The first match of the year was important for morale, and Harry couldn't allow them to lose to their rivals.

Harry scanned the high skies once more, not seeing the little glint of yellow and flew lower. He shot a look a Draco who was glaring at him haughtily, determined to best Harry and the lions. Now, on the Quidditch pitch, their trysts did nothing but increase their competitive streaks determined to best the other. Harry wouldn't allow Draco to triumph, especially not with his godfather watching.

Harry scanned the crowd, looking for the enthusiastic black-haired man. As he was perusing the stands, something moved in the corner of his eye. With a lurch in his stomach, he caught the glint of light that appeared to be the snitch. With a quick glance, he waited until Draco was analyzing the other side of the pitch for their goal and took off at full speed.

The crowd screamed with excitement once they saw Harry soaring toward the eastern stands at full speed, alerting the blond who then followed suit.

Harry laughed, loving the feeling of flying through the air at full speed, the wind biting at his face. He kept his eyes on the snitch, that was hovering as if waiting for him to catch up. Harry heard a whoosh of air and had to roll his broom to the left to avoid a well-placed bludger that Slytherin had sent his way, giving the blond seeker a chance to catch up and surpass Harry by a foot or so. The crowd gasped as Harry completed the maneuver to avoid the bludger and cheered as both seekers flew almost neck-in-neck to the golden ball.

As soon as the boys grew close, the snitch took off. The small golden ball soared straight up, and they had to pull sharply on their brooms to follow. Harry made the sharper turn and gained the advantage on Draco once more, stretching his hand as far as he could but the Snitch was just slightly out of his reach.

"Harry!" Draco's shriek was the only warning he received when a bludger was sent towards his chest. Harry gasped and dodged the bludger narrowly, spinning to the left and losing his balance. The blond didn't wait for him to straighten out, speeding past him toward the golden ball. Harry was dazed for a moment, but his gratitude towards Malfoy was short lived as he set himself on course to case the Snitch once again.

Draco's fingers seemed to be brushing against the Snitch and determination filled Harry, today wasn't going to be the day Slytherin would best them. For a brief moment, he recalled Riddle's condescending sneer about needing to win the game today in order to make up for losing so many house points the day before. Determination settled in his stomach like steel, he would win, he would not give Riddle any ammunition to taunt him.

Harry watched the zigzag pattern the golden ball was making and could see it twitching to the right. The movements were so small that Harry wasn't sure how he noticed them, but he trusted his gut and pulled off to the right. He knew if his intuition was wrong then that move would have lost Gryffindor the game and that couldn't happen.

Especially not if _he_ was watching, Harry thought vehemently with the image of those cold, dark eyes flashing before him. His strong dislike for the professor left a rotten taste in his mouth and panic filled him for a moment as the Snitch continued its course, almost in Draco's palm.

Harry kept his pace slightly to the right of the blond, much to the dismay of the crowd. Harry glared at the Snitch, watching for signs of direction change. It was so slight that he didn't realize it at first, the Snitch veered sharply to the right, much to the blonde's dismay and directly into the path of the raven-haired seeker.

With a grin, Harry leaned forward directly at the Snitch, feeling his heart trying to jump its way out of his chest. He could have cried when he felt the cool metal of the small ball in his palm, fighting for only a moment before accepting it's capture. Some part of his mind heard Draco swear above him. Excitement exploded through his chest and stars were spinning in front of his eyes, adrenaline pumped through his veins.

Harry steadied his broom to a stop and held the golden Snitch high for all to see.

There was an uncertain pause before the stadium broke out into deafening cheers, the Gryffindors roaring in triumph. As his team mates swarmed him in elation, Harry shut his eyes and thought of how sweet it would be to see Riddle's face at the moment before he was swept into the celebration.

!

"You really had us all going, Harry!" Sirius laughed and shook his head with his eyes full of excitement. "We had no idea what your plan was when you suddenly flew off in a different direction than the Snitch!"

Harry laughed as he walked through the grounds with his godfather, Tonks and his friends. It took him quite some time to worm his way out of the celebrating crowd who all wanted to give him a pat on the back or high-five. He had to grab Ron and sneak out of the back of the changing tent, meeting a grinning Hermione before sneaking off to find his godfather. They walked towards the black lake, avoiding the large groups of celebratory students making their way back to the castle.

Tonks nodded, flashing Harry a mirthful smile. "Yeah, that was brilliant, Harry. How did you know it was going to change directions like that?" She tossed her fiery red hair behind her back and the whole group turned to him, curious at his answer.

Harry shrugged, "I noticed it was veering right slightly and I just hoped, I suppose. I was lucky though, I would have gotten taken out by the bloody bludger if Malfoy hadn't warned me in time." He grimaced, thinking of how much damage a bludger could do if it hit him square in the chest.

"That's what happened!" Hermione exclaimed. "We noticed you almost got hit, we weren't sure what happened." Her face scrunched up in question, "Why would Malfoy warn you? It's the decent thing to do but we all know he's far from decent."

Harry looked at her and shrugged, not feeling inclined to answer. It had surprised Harry a great deal, as well. He knew Draco wanted nothing more than to beat him in front of the crowd and he didn't think some casual fooling around would affect that. Harry made a mental note to thank the blond properly next chance he got.

He turned to grin at Ron and give him a playful shove, "You made some pretty impressive saves too, if you hadn't been on your toes then we would have lost regardless of if I caught the Snitch." This earned a rather dour grin from the ginger who clearly wasn't pleased with his performance.

Sirius noticed the boy's disappointment and squeezed his shoulders, giving him a cheerfully mischievous grin. "You know, I agree with Harry. Some of your maneuvers were close to what the Cannons use! I can prove it." Harry cocked an eyebrow at his godfather, wondering what he meant.

Tonks gave Sirius a knowing look and laughed at the trio who were looking up at Sirius questioningly, wondering what the eccentric man could have this time. After digging through his Auror red robes, Sirius pulled out an envelope and handed it to the ginger. "That's it, open it!"

Ron tore the paper and came face to face with a wizarding picture of the veteran Chuddley Cannons keeper that was signed to _future quidditch star, Ron Weasley._ The photo showed the man executing a maneuver that Ron was surprisingly close to imitating during the game against Slytherin.

Ron stared at the picture in shock, rubbing his thumbs along the size in awe, unable to speak for almost a full minute. "This is bloody awesome, Sirius!" He beamed up at Harry's godfather and Harry couldn't help but smile as well, finding his good humor infectious. "I can't believe you met him!"

Sirius shrugged and shot a knowing look at his partner, "Tonks and I helped the team owner with a legal issue not too long ago and we've been close since." He winked at the three students who laughed.

They wandered along the grounds, discussing the game and the past week. Harry found himself not wanting to tell his godfather of his issues with Riddle when asked how he was liking his classes, not even wanting to think of the git. He was in such good humor and didn't want to ruin it, and though Hermione told Sirius about Riddle she thankfully didn't mention his discipline of Harry.

When Harry asked Sirius how work was going and why he was wearing his formal Auror robes to the school which he normally did not do. Sirius sighed, and Tonks gave his hand an affectionate squeeze. When Sirius didn't answer, she reached into her own robes and pulled out today's copy of the Daily Profit and handed it to Harry, opening it to the second page.

 _Ministry Official Murdered in What Appears to be a Cult Killing_

Harry grimaced as he read the headline and scanned the article that features a picture of a tall, dark-haired man that couldn't be much older than Sirius, "Wilkie Twycross, member of the department of magical transportation." He murmured. "Where have I heard his name before?"

Sirius sighed, "He teaches apparition to the seventh-year students at Hogwarts. We need to have a meeting with McGonagall." He cast a forlorn look up at the castle and shook his head.

Hermione, who had been rather quiet up until now blinked a few times and frowned, "But, sorry for prying, I thought you and Tonks didn't deal with murder cases often?" Harry nodded in agreement, wondering why his uncle had been assigned the case. Sirius was a senior Auror and for the last few years had been allowed to pick and choose the cases he was assigned. Judging by the look on the man's face, he hadn't chosen this one.

Sirius seemed darkly amused that Hermione had remembered that information. "I keep underestimating what a bright witch you have become, Hermione!" Hermione attempted to hide her blush, but he continued, kicking a few stones that lined the path to the castle. "This killing, however, happens to be right up my alley." He gave Harry a soft look.

Curiosity had Harry narrowing his eyes and chirping up, "How so, Sirius? Because they think it was a cult?" Harry wasn't so sure he knew what they meant by a cult killing.

"Willkie was an ex-death eater, Harry." Tonks cut in, her eyes growing hard and Harry felt his stomach lurch. "He was acquitted during the death-eater trails… And as for the cult killing, they found this carved into his skin." Tonks trailed off into an unpleasant silence and flipped through her sketchbook and handed it for the three to see.

Harry felt his blood run cold as he grasped the notebook. The symbol was eerily close to the one Voldemort had used, it was the same skull, but it didn't have the snake through its mouth. Tears of what Harry assumed was blood dripping from the eyes and a rough image of a sun replaced the snake in the skull's mouth. The image sent shivers down Harry's spine and he shoved the notebook back to his godfather, feeling uneasy. "Is it other ex death-eaters who did this?" His voice was a whisper and he rubbed his forehead apprehensively.

Sirius handed Tonks the notebook and the group hurried their pace back to the castle; Sirius's expression was hard as stone. "I don't know yet, Prongslett. We are going to find that out." His tone was soft, understanding his godson's apprehension. "Either way, you are in no danger okay? Just stay on the grounds until we get this cleared up." His eyes flashed, "No, adventures."

Harry gave his godfather a nod, not wanting to give the Auror anything else to worry about.

They finished their trek back to the castle rather quietly, Hermione and Tonks chatting about Viktor much to Ron's chagrin. Harry's mind was reeling, hearing anything about Voldemort's reign of terror was rare but the idea of someone killing for the monster was terrifying, he thought all the active death-eaters were in Azkaban. They reached the castle after a few minutes, Sirius and Tonks agreed to walk them to the Gryffindor tower.

"Well, well, well, I thought I smelled wet dog." A cold, sarcastic voice drawled, and Severus Snape appeared in the hallway by them. His black eyes fixed upon Sirius with such hatred that gave new meaning to the expression 'if looks could kill'.

Sirius stopped in his tracks and analyzed the potions master with a giddy gleam in his eye. "Snivellus! How have you been? It looked almost due for your annual shower, the grease is beginning to drip." The two men crossed their arms and regarded each other with dislike.

Snape narrowed his eyes and retorted, "How's your flea problem? I've heard they're killer this time of year." Harry stood behind his godfather and crossed his arms, as well, giving his potions professor a cold stare.

Tonks laughed and wrapped her arm around Sirius' waist. "Hello, Professor, I am pleased to see you're well. Professor McGonagall is expecting us, and we still must walk these three to their dorms, so we'll have to be going." She regarded the professor for a moment and only received a cold nod. Before waiting for her partner, she walked off towards the staircases.

Sirius shot Snape a glare and muttered "greasy git" before following the redhead. The trio followed close at his heels, suppressing laughter. Harry knew his godfather hadn't been on good terms with Snape when they attended Hogwarts and it gave Harry satisfaction to see his godfather take Snape down a few pegs. It was surprising to see how much animosity still existed between the two men since Sirius is so level-headed, but he let the greasy git get under his skin.

!

Severus Snape seethed as he stormed through the corridors, his dark cloak billowing behind him with vigor.

He hated Sirius Black. He hated the boy who had grown up tormenting him in Hogwarts, he hated the man who overcame the prejudices attached to his name and became an Auror at a tender age, he hated the man that had become an Auror to save people but allowed the love of his life and her husband to die. Sirius hated the fact that Black became Harry's guardian after Lily's death as if he could somehow make up for what he did.

Black could have stopped it from happening, he could have saved them, but he failed. Lily Potter lost her life because her friends had failed her.

Black had insisted Peter become the Potter's secret keeper, because he feared the responsibility and, in turn, handed the love of Severus's life and her infant son to the dark lord. Black had the audacity to look down on Severus who had given everything to stop the dark lord, after the crimes he had committed? Lily's son looked upon a coward as a role model and it disgusted Severus... if Albus was still here…

Severus winced as he thought of the man who had controlled Severus for so long, the lord of light. With his twisted version of good and evil, he had caused Severus almost as much pain as the dark lord had.

Albus Dumbledore was the only man Severus had ever killed.

Albus Dumbledore was a great wizard, his power was unmatched and was a warrior of the 'greater good'. His magic had been renown, especially after his defeat of the dark lord Grindelwald, and even he-who-must-not-be-named had feared him. It was Severus, only him, who had seen the true cruelty that resided in the twinkling blue eyes. The man had been so close to destroying his second dark lord because of Severus.

Albus knew he knew about Riddle and in time he learned of his soul-bond with Lily's son. Severus had a moment of weakness and went to the headmaster, explaining himself and begging Albus help him keep Harry safe from the creature Voldemort had become. He knew that the friendship he had begun with the man who was strangely so different from the dark lord had made him weak, he wasn't sure he could kill Riddle when the need would arise, so he went to the champion of light.

Dumbledore destroyed Severus in all but body with a demand proposed as an observation. His mind took him back to that bright morning in Dumbledore's office when the man had leaned forward to a grief-stricken Severus and muttered, "The boy's death will mark the death, the _final_ death, of Voldemort." The twinkle in his eye was clear enough, his bright blue eyes bore into Severus's with the severity of his demand.

Albus, after everything Severus had lost, everything he had given up for the cause, had told him to kill Lily's son. That was when the weight of the world he hadn't known he was carrying had hit him, crushing him into the dirt until all that was left of Severus was dust. It was then that the weight of it all broke him: his childhood, his parents, his torment at Hogwarts, the loss of Lily to Potter, the torture, the hatred he received and gave, and finally, the death of the only good thing that had ever graced his life: Lily Potter. Since her death, Severus had been crawling beneath the weight, wishing for death with the only thought of keeping him safe: Lily's son, the only small part of her he had left.

Dumbledore didn't _care_ that he had given too much already, he didn't care that the small child had saved the world, he didn't understand. It was the straw that broke the camel's back.

Before Severus or even Albus realized it, he had his wand raised to the elder wizard. The weight of everything that he had been through sent absurd power jolting through him, the magic he wasn't sure was even his own.

Severus never heard himself utter the curse, lost in himself as he was, but he watched as green engulfed his mentor and destroyed the man. It took so long before he came back to himself, not comprehending what had happened. He, Severus Snape, murdered Albus Dumbledore in Hogwarts. If he hadn't taught there himself, it would have been impossible to cover the whole thing up. Severus was a potions master, through and through, and used his skill to clear himself from the crime scene.

Severus was drowning in his own insanity when he cast the curse but looking into the old man's lifeless blue eyes had struck him back to reality. He had murdered Albus Dumbledore, and he had done it for Harry Potter, he had done it for Lily and himself. Severus had done more for the Potters than they would ever know, more than Black had.

He went back to Riddle, explaining what had happened, hoping for death. He had betrayed the man, and Severus knew what he would receive at the hands of the ex-dark lord would be no worse than his fate if left to the ministry. Snape did not beg, he did not cry, he waited for the curse that he should have received after the love of his life died.

It did not come.

Severus remembered the look on Tom Riddle's face clearly and it was that night he knew Tom was not Voldemort. Riddle wasn't a monster, maybe he wasn't evil. The emotion that dominated the vampire's eyes was something that he didn't believe possible: empathy. The man did not pity Severus, he understood. Severus had killed his mentor for the man's soul-mate, and in turn, for him. The professor had not done it out of fear, out of the desire to please the ex-dark lord, he had to done it out of true loyalty even if that loyalty was to Harry Potter.

That night had marked the change in their relationship. They were not master and servant, they were something Tom Riddle had never had before: comrades, and friends. It was not always functional, and the topic of Harry's 17th birthday led to heated arguments, but it was a new experience for both men and it was cherished.

Severus's allegiance was still to Harry Potter for Lily, but it was also to Tom Riddle and that was because he chose it to be- not out of some sense of duty.

!

"Move it, Mudblood."

Draco shoved his way through the excited crowd at the Quidditch pitch and set course to find his parents. He was irritated at the loss, embarrassed that he came so close to finally beating Harry.

 _Harry_ , he sighed. If he didn't warn the boy about the bludger than he finally would have beat Gryffindor. That wouldn't have been winning, he thought angrily. Even if he could bear the thought of he dark-haired beauty getting clobbered by the ball, he wouldn't have wanted victory that way. Draco wanted to show that he was just as good as Potter, not that he wanted the other seeker incapacitated in order to win. It didn't much matter now though, he would have to just train and be ready for when he faced off against the Gryffindor again.

What had unnerved him, however, was how he had warned Harry without pause. Once he saw Harry in danger of getting struck, lost in his own determination to beat Slytherin, his blood froze in his veins and he called out to Harry, terrified. As much as Draco didn't want to believe it, Harry had wormed his way into his heart and affected his emotions the same way as his cock. It wasn't fair, Potter already had everything, he had Draco's body but why would he have his heart too?

As frustrated as Draco was with himself, he couldn't be angry or resentful with Harry. Something about those damn green eyes had taken a hold of Draco and there was no way he could crawl out of the grasp. He had a taste of the damn Gryffindor and was addicted.

Draco angrily shoved through the crowd, looking for the one he dreaded seeing most: his father. Lucius Malfoy was the head of the Malfoy family, regal and cold as any pureblood could hope to be. Perfection was an expectation he had for Draco and to have a half-blood best him in front of so many people, it left Lucius displeased. It was unavoidable, he had to search out his father and have the chastise be over with.

A flash of platinum blond caught Draco's eye and he saw his father standing in a group of parents, a cold smile upon his regal face. He turned to face Draco and beacon him over, the blond boy felt his feet grow heavy with dread. Once he arrived, Lucius excused himself from the group and motioned from his son to follow him a little further away. Draco noticed how stiff the man had become, which was uncustomary for his father.

Once they had privacy, Lucius turned to his son coldly, "I see the half-breed has managed to find a way to best you once again, Draco."

Draco flushed abashed and trained his eyes on the ground at his feet, not wanting to see his father's disappointment. "I'm sorry, father. I won't allow Potter to beat me again," The blond boy muttered.

Lucius stood straighter and snorted lightly, something he would not have allowed anyone, but Draco, to hear. "It had been that way since your first year, a promise for the future is worth less than victory today. I hoped that bludger would break the boy, but he somehow caught it before he could get hit." Draco knew he wouldn't say any of these things so bluntly for the other families to hear, only his son was 'lucky' enough to see the cruelty the man was capable of.

Draco bowed his head, wishing he could escape this conversation. "I'm sorry, father."

"Straighten your back and stop apologizing, son, it is unbecoming and not appropriate for a Malfoy." Lucius raised Draco's chin to meet his own gaze. "I will not have the Malfoy heir groveling, you are to learn from your failure. Potter will get his due."

Draco pulled his chin away and raised an eyebrow at his father questioningly, _was he planning on hurting Harry for winning the match_? "What do you mean, father?" He kept his voice light and uncaring, not wanting Lucius to question his motives asking. The crowd was beginning to disperse, and they would need to travel back to the castle soon, the sun was waning lower towards the horizon.

Lucius smiled, a cold, sadistic glint appearing in his eye. "Things are about to get interesting around here, Draco. As much as possible, stay away from Potter." He clasped Draco's shoulder and turned him towards the school, changing the topic, "Now, tell me, how are your classes going?" He started marching them back towards the school.

Draco knew he couldn't push the subject with his father, he recognized the one the man used and would only grow angry with him. His stomach twisted as they made their way towards the castle, _what did he mean_? _Was Harry in danger_? Draco knew he had to press his father for more information, just not tonight; it was late, and his father was already angry, so Draco reined in his questions and told him about his first week back at Hogwarts absentmindedly, his thoughts fixed on Harry.

!

 **So… thoughts? I'm especially nervous for everyone's reactions to this chapter.**

 **I know there was some Dumbledore bashing, which I tried to keep to a minimal. I believe fully that Snape snapping and killing the man is realistic, you can only push a man so far, right? I am a Dumbledore fan, but I am not a skilled enough writer to have him in this story without butchering his character, sadly. I tried to use his death to further Snape's development, something I hope you guys will appreciate.**

 **I am very curious to know what you guys think of how Voldemort died, and Tom Riddle was reborn, did you guys like it? I wasn't really interested in the Horcrux's, I felt this angle was a little bit more interesting for me.**

 **I know that there is a lot of friction between Tom and Harry, but I want a chance to develop their relationship, rather than them be forced to love each other because of the bond.**

 **I do have this story already planned out, but I really am open to suggestions as long as they do not hinder the progression of the plot. If you have any ideas, then feel free to tell me in a review or a PM.**

 **Also, I know its early and I haven't explained much yet but anyone wants to take a guess who is the antagonist killing people is? More info will be given in the next chapter.**

 **As usual, if you guys think this is worth continuing, then let me know : )**


	3. Fluxweed

**Thank you for the reviews!**

 **Thanks to all the lovely reviewers, you all make me really happy. Thanks to WillofHounds, Nur123, Celestialuna, Faqqera, and Wolven Spirits. I replied to a few below:**

 **mikurocks1234:** I was really happy to hear that you liked Garden of Eden so much! I have stories that I re-read a bunch to so it makes me happy that someone feels that way about mine. I hope that you come to like Bound by Blood just as much!

 **TMarvoloRiddle1944:** I'm glad you like the new perspective on it, I think it works better taking their relationship slower than rushing like I had in Garden of Eden. Thanks for the review!

 **J.F.C:** I was really, really happy to read your review. It makes me really happy that you were contemplating their bond. I love your idea of Tom getting something from Harry through the bond, like a skill or something. So far I've been trying to focus on the idea that Tom isn't a psychopath (because the original Tom definitely was) anymore because he got emotions from harry through the bond. I really love your idea of an actual skill and I've been trying to find something that I could add in that would suit the story.

Harry talking to snakes/ any other traits he may receive from Tom will definitely come up, I actually have it planned but it won't be for a little while. Thanks so much for the review! I'm really interested in what you think of the story going forward. If you have any other ideas, I'd love to hear them!

 **DooDooDoo:** I don't have any plans for him so far but I'll keep it in mind and see where I can fit him in. Thank you very much for your review, I'm really happy you're liking it!

 **Chapter 3**

He knew he shouldn't have ran into the woods.

As soon as his feet left the cobblestone road, he knew he had made a mistake. He could have so easily apparated back to Hogsmead, the small town was so close, but that was no longer an option. The only thing he could do was run and hope he could get his wand back from where he lost it, but the village was slowly fading behind the trees. The late evening sun was dying on the horizon, leaving the forest rather dark and foreboding, the only light trickled through the thick blanket of trees above, growing fainter with the waning sun.

The man knew that if he wanted to survive, he needed to get inside before the sun fully set. He ran along the treeline as fast as his portly legs would carry him, he was passed his prime and lived his life sitting behind a desk, which he was paying for dearly as he could feel himself grow tired. He couldn't afford to stop if he wanted to live, he needed to continue, he wanted to live, he deserved to live.

His chest felt as though it was about to burst from exertion but the twigs breaking and snarls emanating from the shadows behind him forced him to continue. It was a game of cat and mouse, of wolf and sheep, he was being herded further and further away from the safety of the village and couldn't change his course without being caught. The sounds of the hustle and bustle in the village were fading and he cursed himself for coming here, knowing as soon as he replied to _that_ letter he had signed his doom. He had always been too curious, to hungry for power; he let that hunger consume him as he had during the war but this time there would be no trials, no appeals, and as soon as the sun set, he would meet his executioner.

It was becoming harder to keep his footing as barely any light filtered through the brush above, he realized with panic. He had to do something drastic to get back to the village, and he had to do it now. He was running out of time and the creature in the shadows was closer, eager to complete the hunt. He saw a thinning in the trees to his left and the dim lights of the distance were just beyond. If he could hold out, make the sprint for just a minute or two, then he could live through this nightmare.

The man took a sharp turn around a rather large evergreen, causing the muscles to scream further in protest, but adrenaline was rushing through him and he focused his every thought on survival, trying to hold back the almost-crippling fear coursing through him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the shadow of a tree morph into that of a humanoid and drift through the darkness, fading away when passing through the trickles of light but advancing nonetheless, and quickly. He became acutely aware of his heart hammering in his chest, he was being chased by darkness.

The creature chasing him utterly and completely terrified him to his core.

The trees were beginning to thin as he came closer to the treeline, he had almost reached the open glade that would bring him into the village. If he could reach the open, he could escape the shadows. He could see black spots before his eyes and he wondered if his heart could keep this up or if he would collapse before he could reach sanctuary, his ragged breath was tearing through his throat like daggers. He narrowed his eyes, trying to focus on the task at hand. He was close, so close, and could make it.

But he didn't.

Darkness swirled around his vision and he was halted, tumbling to his knees as the force propelled him forward. His path was blocked. There, standing before him, was a nightmare incarnate. Suddenly, the adrenaline that compelled him to continue drained from his body and he was left shaking.

Coldness emanated from the creature before him, and although it was almost impossible to see any discernable features, it was undoubtably evil. The power that stood before him crippled him almost as much as his own fear had.

He kneeled before the shadows, his vision foggy and he was in danger of losing consciousness. He couldn't breath, his fear and physical exertion made it almost impossible. His muscles shook, barely allowing him to kneel, and he was cold, so cold. Blood pounded in his ears, but he could still hear and feel the sobs tearing out through his mouth. He was cold from the sweat and dirt that caked his robes, from the fall air that bit at his skin, and from the figure standing before him in anticipation.

"I'll give you anything you want," he wasn't sure what he said was understandable or even audible through the sobs wracking his form. He couldn't think, he couldn't breath, as hopelessness and fear dominated him. "Please… please… I can help you." He rasped softly, pleading, while he held his gaze on the forest floor.

He didn't see the figure move, he didn't hear it move. He felt the coldness and could spell the rancid odor of blood and death before him before he saw the shadow that moved to stand before him. He screamed when a hand made of ice tore his arm from his side, destroying the sleeve of his robe and baring his shame for the world to see.

He turned his head to see the faded making that he had taken so many years ago, the mark that stole his freedom. It was his shame, what he pledged to abandon after he was released from his trail fifteen years ago. His tears stained the ground below him and some part of his mind was aware that he was chanting, "I didn't mean it," over and over into the darkness. His past had found him, and he could feel eyes glowering into him with an intensity that he couldn't handle.

He tore his gaze away from the ground, determined to look into the eyes of his assailant and gasped. The darkness surrounding the figure had parted slightly, allowing the man to see its features. His whole body froze with a renewed terror that he didn't believe possible and whispered, "You're not real… You're dead." He kept chanting 'you're dead' mindlessly.

Pain erupted in his back faster than he comprehended.

The man's corpse fell to the ground with a dull thud at the feet of the figure who held his arm, the hand that had plunged through his flesh remained for a moment before retracting, bringing the man's heart with it.

The night went quiet before an almost inaudible hiss came from the figures that regarded the scene, "Yesss…"

!

"As many of you know, the sixth-year curriculum is significantly more in depth than your previous years. It is imperative that you understand what dark magic you will encounter in the future, and in-turn, how to fight it." Harry watched as Riddle lectured in his clear baritone. He stood a the front of the brightly lit classroom, with a neutral expression on his face that typically meant the man was in a good mood. Harry scoffed and leaned his head on his hand, as if the man had a mood that wasn't grumpy.

Harry knew he should lighten up on the man somewhat though; in the couple weeks that passed since Riddle caught him and Draco, the man hadn't gone out of his way to act like a complete git to him. Harry regarded the tall, statuesque man who was currently spelling chalk to capture his diction on the chalkboard. The man dressed so differently from the other professors, it surprised Harry that no one scolded him for it. _Or they could have, and Riddle just didn't care,_ Harry chuckled.

The man wore black slacks, a white dress shirt, and a forest green vest. It wasn't wizard attire, Harry thought, it looked more like something a muggle would wear. He tried to remember if Riddle dressed so differently when he taught Alchemy, but he couldn't quite remember, he hadn't paid the man much attention before this year. It didn't surprise Harry that the man would dress in such a way, Riddle was arrogant as Gilderoy Lockheart, so he probably thought himself dashing and probably wanted Witches to fall over his feet.

His eyes flicked to the platinum blond head that sat at the front, _does Draco find him attractive_? That was ridiculous, of course it was clear enough Riddle was attractive, but does Draco find the git more attractive than him? Harry's cheeks burned slightly and looked down at his own body for a moment; his body was fit enough, he supposed, but he could stain to gain more muscle. Quidditch had toned his body and he had light muscle, but his muscles weren't what you'd consider defined like Riddle's were. He was tall, he supposed, he had an inch or two on most of the boys in his year. Harry hadn't ever thought about his looks much until that point, happy with the body he had, but comparing himself to his professor had given him doubts.

Harry trailed his eyes along the older man's body curiously. He was tall, Harry already knew that, but his professor had to have almost half a foot on him. Riddle's body was much more muscular than his, Harry felt his stomach lurch. Trailing his eyes along the man's chest, he noticed how his broad shoulders tapered down into a narrow waist where his pants did nothing to hide an impressive- Harry stopped himself and shook his head, closing his eyes. Merlin, was he actually attracted to the man?

Harry's eyes swept up to the man's face. Riddle's complexion was quite pale and pulled taunt across high cheekbones and a strong jawline that could have belonged to a statue. His lips were full and a deep red, and they were always pulled back into what seemed like a scowl, but Harry wondered what the man would look like smiling. It was an odd thing to try to picture, everything about the man seemed cold. Riddle's looks were just as cold as his personality, and Harry knew he could never find the older man attractive like he did Draco.

If Riddle wasn't the git professor, and years older than him, and all-around cold man he was, Harry could imagine snogging those perfect lips though.

Harry felt heat in between his legs which radiated on his cheeks as he considered the possibility. It wasn't that surprising, Harry knew he was gay since the moment Draco kissed him on the Quidditch pitch in their third year and he never had difficulty identifying an attractive man before. Objectively, Riddle was attractive, but Harry couldn't ever be with someone as cold and distant as him.

Harry was so lost in thought he almost forgot he was still supposed to be listening to the man's lecture, but his stomach grumbling lurched him from his thoughts, it was almost time for supper, so class should be about finished.

"In your previous year, you learned of the unforgivable curses." Riddle paused, and his eyes fell on Harry for a brief moment before continuing, "Now that you are in a Newt- level class, we will be taking a more hands-on approach with the Imperious Curse. You have heard of this curse, but you must truly understand the extent of its power over your body and mind, as well as see the signs that someone else if affected by it. The ministry-approved way of you learning this is by experiencing it's affects yourself." Riddle finished and earned wide-eyed expressions from the class.

To his right, Hermione raised her hand and questioned, "We'll be casting the curse on each other, Sir?" Her voice was steady, but Harry knew the idea terrified her and many of the other students in the room.

Riddle flashed her a controlled smile, Harry thought it looked an awful lot like one a cat would give a canary. "No, Ms. Granger. While I do not believe anyone in this class would take advantage of the control they would have over their classmate, the ministry does not want to take the risk. I will be casting the curse, as well as another volunteer professor and you will attempt to free yourself from it. This is not mandatory for all, only those who are going into a profession that requires it. Those who choose to not participate will write an essay instead and will not receive the practical portion of their mark in this class."

Harry's eyes shot open wide, he had to let that git take full control of his mind and body? His stomach lurched, and he wanted to vomit, he abhorred the idea. He felt his face go white as a sheet.

Riddle cast a quick tempus charm and turned back to the class, "That's our time for today. If you are not participating, then let me know before our next class." His gaze slid across the class, landing on Harry for a moment, before the man turned and began erasing the chalkboard.

A fury of murmurs broke out as students packed their things, discussing the next class. Harry caught the trail end of Draco's conversation with the other Slytherin students about how he knew he could throw off the curse, no matter who cast it. A smirked tugged at Harry's lips, hearing the blonde's haughty tone and knowing he was scared. He grabbed his books, turning to follow Ron and Hermione out of the room.

"Mr. Potter, a word please?" Riddle's voice sent shivers down Harry's spine as he turned so see the man had finished erasing the board and was regarding him in what Riddle probably thought was a warm smile but looked more like a grimace.

Harry nodded and told his friends to continue to supper without him. He turned and marched to the front of the class, jumping slightly as the oak door to the classroom slammed shut behind the last students who trailed out. He steeled his stomach, not allowing himself to be intimidated by the man who had not directly addressed him since his first week of classes.

Riddle stood leaning behind his desk and his deep red lips twisted into another attempt at a smile that didn't quite sit well with Harry. "I understand that Sirius Black is your godfather and guardian?" His tone was light and curious and irritated Harry somewhat, every wizard in Britain knew this information, the story behind his scar wasn't exactly uncommon knowledge.

Harry took a deep breath and nodded, wondering what the man was getting at.

"I recognise its confidential information, but I understand that he is the Auror currently on the case of Mr. Twycross?" It took Harry a moment before he realized Riddle was talking about the Apparaton teacher who was murdered a few weeks ago. "I have been keeping an eye on the Weekly Profit, but it seems that information hasn't been released. I considered him a good friend and its been troublesome that his tragic fate remains a mystery. I was wondering if your godfather had given you any information?"

Surprised, Harry stared up into the man's unreadable eyes. He didn't know Riddle had friends other than Snape, but he supposed that the must be capable of making friends with normal wizards too. Harry shook his head and offered a small smile of condolence to the concerned man, "Sorry, Professor. Sirius hasn't talked to me much about the case, which usually means its going really well or… or not so well." He trailed off, trying to be sensitive to the man who wasn't so much of a git when he was concerned for a friend.

Riddle signed and pushed a stray curl behind his ear, it amused Harry that his immaculately-styled hair was able to move without Riddle's permission. "Well let's hope it's the later. On a lighter note, I suppose your godfather is the reason behind your choice of profession?" His baritone, which was normally controlled and cool, seemed to be genuinely curious.

Surprised, Harry nodded "Yeah, I've wanted to do what Sirius does before I even really learned what it was."

Riddle chuckled softly, and his eyes warmed slightly, throwing Harry off completely at his change of demeanor. "I can see the appeal, when your godfather came around asking questions about Twycross he seemed to be very much in his element." The man shifted slightly closer to Harry, but the boy never noticed.

Harry felt suddenly uncomfortable fighting the urge to step closer to the man, he took a step back, his gaze landing on the parchment on Riddle's desk. "This case is out of the ordinary for him, but special circumstances forced him to accept it, I think he's taking an unusual incentive to solve it as soon as he can."

"I would very much hope so, Mr. Potter." Riddle's voice dripped like honey and his dark eyes flickered down to meet Harry's again. "I am interested to see how you take to the next lesson, with such an esteemed Auror as a guardian." He shot Harry another cat-like grin that lit up his features and Harry felt an involuntary heat rise between his legs rise once more.

Harry felt blush rise to his face and wished with all his might to look away from the man who suddenly affected him in ways he was _not_ comfortable with. It took as his might, but he met Riddle's smug demeanor with a challenging smirk and crossed his arms across his chest. "You'll find my will and determination quite indominable, Mr. Riddle." He forced his voice to be calm and confident.

That made the older man pause and his gaze was fixed on Harry's face, as if searching for an answer to an unasked question that Harry wasn't entitled to. After an uncomfortable pause, Riddle's eyes glinted, and a devilish smirk twisted his features to be almost predatory, making Harry feel like the Canary. "I am _very_ interested to see just how true that statement is, Harry."

Harry was transfixed on the man, confused and unable to summon his on voice so shoot back a retort. He was held prisoner by the dark, turbulent eyes that bore into his own and Harry didn't think he'd be able to move even if the Hogwarts express was rushing toward him. Harry felt his hands began to shake as Riddle moved as to move closer towards him.

Uneasiness filled Harry and his instincts were telling him to back away from the man who bore down upon him with far too much interest in his eyes. He needed to leave, he needed to get out of this situation _now_. There was a part of Harry, deep down that remained far too calm in Riddle's presence and wouldn't allow his body to move.

Harry could feel a part of him, something unknown to him before, that seemed to awaken when being this close to someone that unnerved him so much. If he had the concentration to focus on this new found desire inside him, he would have felt the same coldness that emanated from Riddle buried deep down inside himself.

As if sensing Harry's extreme discomfort, Riddle suddenly broke the silence with a rather musical laugh; his eyes flickered away from Harry's, releasing Harry from whatever magic was turning him into a prisoner. Harry almost fell once he was released and backed off immediately, never leaving his gaze wander close to the man's eyes again. He didn't wait to be dismissed as he stormed towards the door, his books in hand, desperate to be anywhere but here.

"You should make your way to supper now, before its over. Have a good afternoon, Mr. Potter." Riddle's voice was dripping with amusement and smugness that made Harry want to vomit once more.

Harry turned to regard the professor once more, who had soundlessly sat at his desk and pulled out papers to grade. Harry gave the man and stiff not and dashed out of the classroom, allowing the large oak door to slam loudly behind him.

!

It felt like forever that Tom stared at the door his soul-mate had passed through. His fists hadn't unclenched, and he could feel a bit of blood pool in his palm from his nails digging in too hard. For the past couple weeks since first officially meeting his soul-mate, he had felt actually excited.

He had affected Harry. Tom could see it in the boy's eyes, it wasn't anger or resentment (although that did show up too), he made the boy nervous. It was something he could get used to, digging under that infuriating Gryffindor bravado and actually getting to the boy on an emotional level, and Tom couldn't wait to do it again.

Even the reaction he drew from the raven-haired boy when Tom had broken his 16-year silence in his dream couldn't give Tom this feeling of exhilaration. Harry had responded with shock and frustration in their dream, he probably believed Tom's persona there was a figment of his own imagination- and likely still did. That would change soon though, Tom thought with a smirk.

Tom was genuinely surprised when he looked up from his lecture at Harry (which he did more often than he probably should) and noticed the boy was giving him his full attention and was practically undressing Tom in his mind. It was the first time Harry had given him attention of that kind and one of the first time's in his life as Tom Riddle, he wasn't sure how to react to the development.

Tom knew his affect on others, he had regained his previous body before becoming Voldemort, and his vampiric qualities had only added to his appearance. The pathetic way witches (and a fair few wizards) threw themselves on him, repulsed him; had Tom felt compelled to take a partner, it wouldn't be a mindless idiot that couldn't control themselves. He had contemplated it, in his youth, but no one could bring the equal amount of value into his life as he would in theirs, and he wouldn't settle for less.

That's what a relationship with another should be, he had learned when he had attended Hogwarts as a student, a partnership. When taking a lover, you take them as an equal and there simply was no equal to Tom Riddle. After Voldemort's death, he had gained emotions unknown to him as a human, but it did not change the way he connected to others- or doesn't connect.

Until he met that damned boy. Harry was the first wizard to ever be able to give Tom value at least equal to what Tom could return (if not more), he was the only one worthy. For years, it bothered him that Harry's contribution would be his blood- or, rather, the power that came with it- but recently he found himself enjoying the boy's presence. In their shared dreams, Harry had showed Tom a side of himself that he coveted, and Tom found himself appreciating their time together immensely. He knew that Harry would be different in person, and while he was very much correct, Tom found himself appreciating the boy's quirks.

One of the first things Tom had noticed about Harry was the way his nostrils flared, and he bit his lip when learning something new that interested him, Tom would consider it endearing if he was capable of such feelings. In his class, Harry had sometimes given him a sense of nostalgia in his eagerness to learn, reminding Tom of himself when he was first introduced to the wizarding world. Tom mused that maybe, once Harry accepted that he was Tom's, then they could explore the mysteries of magic just had he had when he graduated from Hogwarts. Tom could show Harry such wonders that captivated him in his youth, and maybe even bring the boy to appreciate dark magic as he does light.

Their bond connected them, and the power that Harry's blood brought him convinced Tom to consider the boy as a partner through equal trade. The bond, however, didn't induce feelings of compassion, respect or even love, so he wouldn't be forced to feel any of these things for the boy. Harry had earned his attention though, and that was enough to leave Riddle contented.

Would Harry be content with him? Would the boy come to love him?

Tom began sorting through papers that needed to be graded but couldn't keep thoughts of the emerald-eyed boy from plaguing him. As the boy matured, Tom had found himself considering the idea of Harry as his partner instead of merely a source of power. Tom had been alone in the orphanage, he hadn't found anyone he could consider becoming close to at Hogwarts, and he devoted his adult life to his never-ending search for knowledge and power; once he had created Voldemort he had scores of followers, many fancied themselves in love with him, but it wasn't love.

People, Tom had come to understand, loved power, they loved beauty, they loved riches, and because of that he had lost count of those who fancied themselves him love with him as he was the epitome of the three. No one had truly loved Tom Riddle, no one had known him, only what he allowed them to see and he never felt compelled to change that. They were all pawns, disposable. Even Severus, who had become his companion, would never truly be his equal- not even close.

Would Harry love him? Tom had never considered the idea before. Part of him hoped Harry never would, he hoped that the boy would be better than those pathetic fools that obsessed over him, he hoped that Harry would be better than them. What if, through the bond, Harry was able to actually _see_ him? What if Harry saw the monster that simmered below his beauty and understood? Their souls were merged, what if the oblivious Gryffindor had a monster of his own hidden deep down? Tom brushed off the idea, feeling all too vulnerable. The part of Harry that resided in him had given him a taste of power but had only brought emotion that could only lead to weakness.

Harry was his, of that fact he was certain, but that didn't mean the boy was worthy of being his equal. If he attempted to show Potter the oceans of knowledge that Tom reveled in, the boy would drown. If Tom opened his heart to vulnerability and hope then it would allow in weakness, especially when Harry would ultimately disappoint him. The boy would be a source of power like no other, and would be quite the fun plaything, but he wouldn't be Tom's partner. To his surprise, Tom felt a great sadness grow in his heart at the thought and he became angry at the weakness Harry's soul had polluted his own with and shoved the emotion from his consciousness.

Even without Voldemort, Tom had true darkness within him. There were monsters in his soul, pools of darkness that would destroy those he let see. To truly love him, one would have to be able to swim in the lakes of darkness in his soul, harness the monsters that tore through his consciousness, to feel the fire burning within him without getting burned away. Harry could never understand these things the boy didn't have the strength needed to truly stand beside him.

Harry, however, could lay beneath him and Tom would ensure that would happen.

Tom thought of the challenge Potter had laid when claiming he could withstand the imperious curse. His lips twisted into a smirk that he knew must make him look inhuman, he knew the boy didn't understand what he had been implying but it amused Tom nonetheless. If Harry could through off such a curse, then could he repel the tools a vampire uses to subdue their mate? Tom knew he didn't want to force himself upon Harry if the boy was screaming and fighting him, he was going to use his compulsion to make the boy accept him if it came to that. Even if Harry didn't consciously accept Tom, his body and soul would.

A vampire's mate knew who their other half was, even if it was only in their unconscious thoughts. Harry didn't understand why he was reacting to his professor the way he was, and as his age of maturity came closer the compulsion to give himself to Tom would only become stronger. Harry's body wanted to give himself to Tom, and therefore, it was nearly impossible that he could repel the older man's compulsion. His body was pulled to Tom because he was a vampire's mate, his soul was pulled to Tom because of their soul-bond. Either way, Tom mused, Harry was an untrained 16-year old while he was a decades old Dark Lord so even without the bond the boy wouldn't be able to resist him no one could.

It was delightful to see the boy so confident in his will, Tom thought warmly, it had been cute. He contemplated how satisfying it would be to see Harry drop the bravado and lose himself in Tom's will, even if it was just from an archaic -albeit useful- curse. It would be nothing to the sight of the boy under his thrall, offering his mind and body to Tom.

Tom allowed shivers of arousal to flow through his body for a moment before he remembered what he boy had told him about the case his guardian was overseeing. Tom grew angry at the idea that someone was running around slandering Voldemort's name through a poor change to his mark and idiotic murders.

They knew Tom was alive, that was undeniable, and he was fairly certain they were trying to get his attention. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, he had no doubt that the murders were committed by vampires and likely death eaters. He would consult with Severus on the matter, but he knew that he needed to eliminate the threat before they discovered his identity. It needed to be handled delicately, in any case, because he couldn't risk exposing himself.

Not when he was so close to finally having Harry, less than a year away.

!

"Now, can anyone tell me what Fluxweed is?"

Neville's hand shot up with enthusiasm and waited only a moment before answering. Harry regarded him lazily, only half- focused on the lesson. He's heard Neville chatter about the plant before, since he'd helped professor sprout grow it in their greenhouse. Harry snickered, remembering when Neville told them about growing much of their potion stock for Snape and how the great git would panic if something would happen to it.

"We're going to need a good game of chess this evening, Harry, all of these lectures have fried my brain." Ron muttered, paying as little attention to the class as Harry was.

Harry nodded, "Agreed, Mate, but I think it's mostly because you know you'll win."

Ron gave him a smirk and shrugged, "doesn't make it any less fun." The shot a glance at Hermione beside him who was avidly listening to the different uses of Fluxweed. "Hermione has been batty about studying for NEWTs that are still basically 8 months away, so we may need to play up in our dormitory instead of the common room."

Hermione turned and shot the two an angry glance but didn't comment, scribbled down the care needed to grow Fluxweed. She scrunched her face when Professor Sprout mentioned that naturally it only grew in a certain pocket of the Siberia that could only easily be reached by Flooing. She looked up at Sprout with her nose furrowed, "But professor, why use it in so many potions if it's so difficult to procure? Surely there must be substitutes."

Sprout paused her lecture and shook her head, "I'm afraid that's more of a question for professor Snape, Ms. Granger. There are few proper substitutions and I believe Fluxweed was chosen specifically because it supresses the many of the natural urges and traits in magical creatures."

"That's why it's used in the Wolfsbane potion." Neville chimed in excitedly.

Sprout smiled warmly, "That's right, Neville. The Hogwarts greenhouse is one of the only areas in Britain that grows it, and thankfully we have a potions master capable of brewing volatile potions. "

"Yeah, thank Merlin for Snape, the great git." Ron rolled his eyes sarcastically, earning a soft snicker from Harry.

"Okay now break out into groups, we're going to learn how to properly plant Fluxweed." Sprout clapped her hands enthusiastically, earning groans from the class. Neville was the only excited one, having a new-found popularity among the students wanting him as a partner for the challenge.

"At least we don't have potions today," Ron shrugged as the groups gathered their supplies.

Harry hummed in agreement and let his thoughts wander to his godfather, who he hadn't heard from since his Quidditch game against Slytherin. Sirius usually owled at least once a week, but he had the habit of getting lost in a case and forgetting the rest of the world. Tonks, at least, makes sure he sleeps and eats, Harry thought fondly.

Tonks had been Sirius's partner since she graduated from Auror training a couple years ago and had been the best choice for his godfather for sure. She grounded him and kept Sirius from drowning in his own determination and passion for helping people. Tonks had basically lived with them for the past few years, so once the two finally decided to date, it wasn't surprising. After Remus had passed, Sirius was left a mess. It had been Tonks that had pulled him from depression and restored the light in hid godfather's eyes.

Tonks hadn't tried to treat Harry like a son, knowing he was too old to appreciate it, but she was one of his best friends. He loved the slightly eccentric woman just the same as he did Hermione and Ron. Harry appreciated Sirius having such a capable partner, but he still worried for the two whenever they accepted new cases.

 _Especially a case like this,_ thought Harry with a shudder as he followed Hermione's detailed instructions potting the plant. This wasn't the first time someone had tried to scare the wizarding community by using the dead dark lord's symbol, it had been written on the side of Grimmald place in attempts to scare them and had even been shot into the sky after someone used the killing Curse outside the ministry- but nothing like this. Every other instance had just been a desperate grasp for the old power dark wizards had during Voldemort's reign, and nothing had come of it.

Harry shuddered when he remembered the sketch of Voldemort's symbol that had been twisted to have some new perverse meaning. From the way Sirius had acted when describing the killing, it was clear that it had been something out of the ordinary from what he was used to dealing with as an Auror- which was worrying. This case was becoming too real, it was lasting too long, and Sirius was getting too invested.

A pang of guilt hit Harry and he worried his lip, if Sirius wasn't his Godfather then he wouldn't be tied to cases like this and wouldn't be targeted by these lunatics. After Halloween almost 16 years ago, he had been dumped on Sirius's lap along with the notoriety of being the reason Voldemort died praised and feared for powers he didn't have. He thanked the gods every day for his godfather, eternally grateful for the amazing man he had been taken in by.

Sirius had protected him all his life from the remnants of the nightmare that killed his parents, and Harry wanted to be able to return the favor one day. He was famous for something he didn't ask for, for something he didn't want, but he knew his chances of getting accepted into the Auror program were very good because of it. He could learn how to fight the darkness that seemed to cling to him no matter how many years passed since that night, so that Sirius wouldn't have to worry for him.

"Harry, your lip is bleeding." Hermione's soft voice tore him from his reverie, she was giving him a sympathetic look. Ron was beside her, fighting to keep the plant watered enough so the roots would take hold. "If you'd like, I'll go to the Owlery with you this evening, so you can send a letter to Sirius. I'm sure Tonks will be sending a letter soon anyway."

He shot her a warm smile, happy she seemed to understand what he was worried about. Wiping his lip on his sleeve, he shook his head. "It's okay, 'Mione. He's probably is just busy with the case and all."

"It's okay to worry for him." Ron chimed in, seemingly content that the seed took hold properly. "But I think you need to get your mind off of it for a while."

"With a game of chess, of course." He shot the ginger a smirk.

Ron nodded vigorously, "Of course, Mate, you read my mind."

Hermione sighed and packed up her books as class came to an end. "Or, you could focus on how to get ready for Professor Riddle's next class. It might be worth it to read up on how to shake off the imperious curse."

A dark shadow passed over Harry's mood as he remembered the task they had next lesson. "I don't think it's something that you can learn, 'Mione. I think it's just if you have the strength of will to do it." He followed in step with his friends as they began to head out of the greenhouse they had their class in.

Hermione huffed indignantly, "It wouldn't hurt to read about it anyway."

"I bet I'll be bullocks at it." Ron said.

"I wonder who Riddle is going to bring to help him with the curse," Harry said nervously.

"How did you guys like the Fluxweed?" Ron jumped as Neville ran up beside the group who were making their way back up to the castle. His cheeks were flushed, and he was obviously in a great mood after his best class.

Hermione smiled at his enthusiasm, "It seems like a really great plant to keep, Neville."

"Bloody hard to start a seedling though," Ron grumbled beside them.

Neville laughed and gave the ginger a pat on the back. "I'm there with you, mate. If Snape didn't need it so often then it would be a blessing, we wouldn't have to grow so much of it then."

That observation drew a frown from Hermione, "Why does he need so much of it? I don't think there's any students or teachers here who need wolfbane."

Neville shrugged and held the portrait door open for them as they entered the Gryffindor common room. "I'm not sure, but I don't think its for wolfsbane. He hasn't made any special requests for any of the other plants that go in that potion." He gave them a nod and went to join Seamus and Dean who were sitting on the oversized red couch.

Hermione still had a frown like she wasn't ready to leave it a mystery, but Ron and Harry said goodbye and ran up to the boy's dormitory to get ready for supper.

!

Sirius Black was furious.

The Auror sat behind his desk in the dark office, almost everyone had gone home but he couldn't bring himself to put the case files away. The only light came from a small lamp on his desk flickering over files that spanned back to the end of Voldemort's reign, pictures of death eaters were with the files all faded with age. Most were dead and many still rotted in Azkaban while a select few were free, absolved of their crimes during the war through bribery.

Sirius angrily threw down the small pile of those who were given pardons by the ministry, he had combed through the list more times than he could count throughout the past weeks, him and Tonks had called everyone in for questioning, but nothing had come of it. He looked up at the board hanging before him, the concrete facts that they knew were hanging there with all the possible leads that turned out to be dead ends.

He grabbed the stack of the Death Eaters that had survived but were sent to prison, the list was the longest, but many were dead. There were those, like the Carrows, who had been sent to Azkaban but were given the Dementor's kiss and had their bodies sent back to their remaining relatives, if they were alive then Sirius would no-doubt consider them insane and devoted enough to be the fanatical murderers. Rowle, Mcnair, Rosier and many others remained rotting away in cells but after Sirius had visited them for questioning, it was clear that they were basically as dead as the Carrows.

Fenrir Greyback was Sirius's prime suspect, but it was extremely unlikely. The murders seemed as though they were done by a wild animal, something easily done by a werewolf and Greyback was fully sane. The werewolf was free from Azkaban but in ministry custody until more information could be gathered, he wasn't under arrest yet but werewolves, those who were ex-Death Eaters, deserved no rights in Sirius' perspective.

After spending countless hours questioning the werewolf, Sirius knew deep in his gut that the man wasn't guilty of these killings. After showing Greyback the photos from the crime scene, the grey-haired man had given him the most awful smile and claimed with all certainty that the crime wasn't even committed by his kind.

Looking back at the pictures of the bodies and how massacred they were, it was difficult to imagine what sort of creature would be capable of it, even for a seasoned Auror like him. Aside from the victim's arm that bore the twisted version of the dark mark, there was little part of him that wasn't torn apart. It unnerved him to think that he could look at a crime scene like that so calmly normally, but this case left him shook.

Whatever had done the killing was insane or blood thirsty, or both, but the motive was clear enough. They were a fanatic of the dark lord, had most likely served him, and wanted to uphold his legacy. Tonks was trying to decipher the meaning of the new mark, but she had a pretty clear idea of the meaning already. The sun represented rebirth, whoever was doing the killing wanted to revitalize the cause Voldemort was working towards.

The only question was, would Harry get pulled into it?

In the past, Voldemort fanatics had been easy enough to handle and were fairly rare, but they had always targeted Harry in some way. So far, the killer hadn't shown any interest in his Godson and it unnerved him.

Was Harry the next target? The killings were getting closer to Hogwarts, the last almost being in Hogsmeade. What if this monster was planning to get revenge on Harry for being the downfall of their lord? Sirius would never let that happen, he wouldn't fail Harry like he had failed James and Lily.

Sirius lowered the file he was almost crumbling and shut his eyes, breathing deeply to calm himself.

All those years ago, he convinced them to make Peter their secret keeper and then wasn't there to help protect them. Peter was less notorious than they had been, and Sirius knew he would be the first-person Voldemort would come to, to force their location out of him, but Peter was a much less likely subject. Sirius would have died to protect them, to ensure Harry could have grown up with parents, and he should have died for them.

It was his fault Harry wasn't able to ever know his parents, so Sirius became them as much as he could instead. He had devoted his life to being everything he could be for Harry, everything the boy deserved, but would never be enough to make up for losing Lily and James. He gave everything he could into protecting Harry of the horrors of the world, as much as possible.

Harry had never known the monstrosities that reside in the world, or in his past, and Sirius vowed to always be the shield that keeps all the darkness away. James' son had grown up to be so much like James, happy and untainted. The scar on Harry's head would be the only reminder of the darkness that plagued his past.

This situation was no different, he and Tonks would get the case solved and the three of them would proceed like normal. Tonks was currently in little Whinging, tying up a few lose ends that they had missed after first investigating the crime scene. She was the best with people, way better than Sirius was, and he trusted her with his life.

After devoting his whole life to Harry, Sirius hadn't considered his own path outside from his godson. After meeting Tonks, everything had changed for him.

Tonks was strong, stronger than any Witch her age he had ever known. She was Sirius's strength when he needed it, an unjudgmental ear that wouldn't condemn him for his past. She wasn't tainted by the horrors of the past, so she helped Sirius forget about the monsters that still sometimes tainted his dreams. Their relationship was easy; they were seamless partners and became lovers effortlessly, there was no work involved, no forcing it, just pure compatibility.

Thoughts of his lover had caused Sirius to smile and warmed his heart. He shook his head and focused back onto the task at hand.

He looked down at the file he had almost crumpled in his hands. A picture of a filthy, black haired Witch had her mouth twisted into a silent, maniacal scream. Bellatrix Lestrange definitely won in the insane department, and her bloodthirstiness was just as well-known. Sirius shuddered as he thought of his relation to the woman, thankful he had never gone insane the way she had.

Sirius set her file in the pile of the deceased, she and her husband had died in a failed escape attempt from Azkaban. Sirius had stopped to visit their pitiful graves on the island when he had to interview convicts, but he never mourned their deaths. The Blacks were a cursed family, and it was better to be dead than a monster.

Sirius reached over to the pile of Death-Eaters that had been pardoned and snarled as he regarded the greasy-haired git that glared back up at him. Severus Snape was a true follower of Voldemort, that much was abundantly clear to Sirius. Dumbledore had stepped in in the man's trail, claiming Snape was a spy for the light and the Headmaster's clout had been enough to pardon the bastard of all his crimes.

Sirius respected Dumbledore more than anyone, but that decision was the worst the man had ever made. Snape didn't deserve mercy, he had claimed to be Lily's friend but helped Voldemort rise to power, which led to Lily's death. He had fooled everyone into believing his lies, but not Sirius. He could feel, deep in his bones, that the potions master had more than a few skeletons in his closet that needed to be atoned for.

Sirius couldn't help the anger and hatred that bubbled in his stomach when thinking of Snape, the greasy man could anger him like no one else. He didn't trust Snape, not by a long shot and didn't believe that the man should be allowed to teach children, he would corrupt them given the chance.

Sirius had disliked the Snape as a boy, angry at how often they would turn around to find hook-nosed boy following them or telling on them to professors. He was all too interested in Lily, which he had no business to be, and should have kept to the basements. Dislike had morphed into hatred once Snape was pardoned and was going to get away with his sins.

What truly made Sirius loathe Snape was Dumbledore's death. The headmaster was murdered, there was no doubt in his mind, and the greasy-haired man knew more about it than he claimed. Whoever had managed to murder the headmaster would have had to have the man's trust, nothing else could have caught the leader of the light off-guard.

There was no doubt in his mind that Snape had something to do with it, he felt it in his gut and his gut was rarely ever wrong. Sirius had spent years looking for any clues pointing to the potion's teacher, but every question was answered too perfectly, ever lose end tied up too conveniently.

Sirius had never been bested by a criminal before, but Snape was the exception and it hurt his pride like nothing ever had. He vowed to avenge Albus, and he would prove his theory one day.

Unfortunately, Sirius knew that Snape was not responsible for this killing, as much as he wanted the bastard to be guilty. He sighed and set the man's file aside, resting his aching head in his hands.

His office door flew open, shocking Sirius as he jumped and grabbed his wand. Kingsley looked distressed as he stepped into the room, the look in his dark eyes unnerving Sirius.

"There was another body found. Corbin Yaxley, ex- head of Magical Law Enforcement, he was found with the mark and his heart torn out in a village not far from where the first killing had taken place." Kingsley spoke in a controlled tone, but Sirius could see the panic in his eyes and knew there was something the Auror hadn't told him yet.

"He was a Death-Eater, wasn't he?" Sirius asked, already knowing the answer to the question.

Kingsley nodded. "He was pardoned during the Death-eater trials and has worked in his old department since."

Sirius's gut grumbled, and he jumped to his feet, gathering his cloak and wand to leave promptly to go to the crime scene. "I'll fire-call Tonks before leave." He started fumbling with the filed on his desk, grabbing what he needed.

"Sirius."

Sirius stopped what he was doing to see that Kingsley had walked forward he was regarding him with worried eyes. "What's going on, Kingsley?"

"Sirius, Tonks is in Little Whinging, the next village over to where this happened. I tried calling her first but she isn't answering-"The dark-skinned man spoke extremely cautiously.

Panic flared in Sirius, Tonks always answers.

Forgetting what he was grabbing, Sirius threw on his cloak and went to storm to the fireplace before Kingsley grabbed his arm. "You mustn't panic, you can't rush there. We have to wait for reinforcements, my friend."

Sirius pulled his arm out of the man's grasp and continued his panicked pace out the door. "I'll see you there with your reinforcements, Kingsley."

If Tonks was in trouble, she needed him, and he wasn't going to fail her like he did James and Lily.

 **I left you with your first Cliffhanger of the story! Thoughts?**

 **Any guesses on who the killer (or Killers) are yet? (Next chapter will give more details on them.)**

 **Who thinks Harry will be able to resist Riddle's will and resist the imperious curse?**

 **I hope this story isn't too angsty, but the romance will be coming eventually! Harry is barely considering kissing Riddle while Riddle is contemplating love, we'll see how long that lasts lol.**

 **I have the next chapter mostly all written, and I'll give you a fair warning that it's a tad graphic but you all will get a decent idea of what vampires are like. Tom is coming off as a softy, all worried about if Harry will like him or not, but Tom isn't a normal vampire.**

 **Until next time.**

.


	4. Late night Conversations

**Thanks for the reviews!**

 **Thank you Faqeera, Phentian, Will of Hounds, TMarvoloRiddle1944, and Mikurocks1234. It always makes me really happy to see familiar faces who review each chapter and it's a pleasant surprise to see new ones! I love and appreciate you guy so much, thank you for being lovely!**

 **For everyone reading, I love you also! (But just a tad less than the people above ; )**

 ******The first POV of this story is a little unpleasant, but I wanted to acquaint you all with how I picture vampires. Tom has given all vampires a rap for being emotional and broody, so I wanted to show you the comparison. *** I am quite sorry for the first scene, but the rest of the chapter will be much more pleasant, I assure you.**

 **I noticed that I am developing Harry/Draco probably a tad more than I should be but don't worrying Tom/Harry fans: its slow coming but will be worth it!**

 **Anyways, here is chapter 4!**

 **Chapter 4:**

Tonks was sure she was dead.

Death didn't feel peaceful though, it felt painful and cold.

Everything was black and cold as ice, her head throbbed with a dull ache and her throat felt like sandpaper. Her whole body was burning, and it felt like someone had poured hot led into her veins, poisoning her slowly. She flexed her muscles tentatively and felt rope around her ankles and wrists; that's good, they wouldn't tie up someone who was dead.

But who were 'they'?

Tonks clenched her eyes shut and tried to remember what had happened. She had finished an interview with the owner of the tavern/ Inn that Twycross was murdered outside, trying to figure out what had gotten the man to go to Little Whinging in the first place. Wilkie had no business going to the small village that was had no significance what-so-ever, he had no family there or ministry business to attend to. Tonks had researched the village but found nothing of significance recently, a wizard had murdered a muggle family there but that was decades and decades ago.

When Tonks had spoken to the Inn owner, she hadn't gotten any worthwhile answers. Twycross had only just arrived not long before he died and had stated that he was visiting there for personal reasons and would most likely be gone before dark. But he wasn't, he left the tavern that evening, and they hadn't found his body until the morning after, torn apart in the street with that strange symbol.

Tonks had been getting ready to leave Little Whinging when she had been knocked out from behind. She was leaving the Tavern and hadn't noticed anyone behind her, she hadn't felt or even sensed anything at all until the pain. Whoever had snuck up on her most definitely was not human, but her and Sirius had already known that. She worried her lip thinking of her lover, and how worried he must be for her.

Not the type to sit back and wait for rescue, she felt the floor and wall behind her with her fingers, noticing that it was cold damp stone. She must be in a basement, that would explain the complete blackout darkness. Feeling around her for anything sharp, she could only find the smooth stone, she would have to work her hands free. Her Auror training had taught her for situations like this, but she needed time in order to free herself and she wasn't sure how much she had.

"You're awake."

Shudders went down Tonk's spine as a clear hiss pierced the darkness, cold and dark and hungry. She tried to memorize how it sounded, so she could identify her assailant but as soon as she heard it, it passed through her mind and she couldn't remember what it sounded like. She couldn't even determine if the voice was male or female, it was like trying to remember a dream after long waking up.

She strained her eyes, trying to make out a figure in the darkness but couldn't see anything. She struggled so she was sitting on her knees, hoping to get into the lead vulnerable position she could while talking to a shadow.

"We were wondering if we had perhaps killed you, it would be a pity." Tonks felt the lightest of touches brush her neck, where the skin was throbbing. It felt like cold mist brushing over her, gone before she had noticed it was there.

Tonks held back a flinch and straightened her back, hiding her fear with as much strength as she could muster. "I can't imagine you would have much of an issue killing me, only so you could tear me apart before I die." She pictured the crime scene they had left, and a shudder passed through her.

"Dear, Nymphadora, I am disappointed. I had heard what promising Aurors you and your partner have become but you still don't understand." This voice came from directly in front of her, maybe a foot or two away. It was softer but still hungry, but this hiss sounded genuinely saddened. A pang of guilt went through her, inexplicably she was angry with herself for disappointing the monster before her. She shook her head, recognising the compulsion.

"I'm not a Death-Eater, so I'm not your target." Tonks ground out, clenching her jaw to stop herself from losing to the compulsion.

She felt the mist-like touch graze her cheek and she twisted her head away. The murderer was close enough for Tonks to smell them, and her senses were assaulted with the scent of rot and decay. She was extremely cold, coldness emanating from the being before her. She felt herself becoming dizzy from the mere presence of the being so close to her and her stomach started sinking as she was starting to realize what creature she was dealing with.

Eyes appeared before her, deep crimson filled with hunger and insanity. They bore into her and Tonks found herself unable to control her own body, unable to look away from the eyes that were drawing closer to her. She noticed out of the corner of her eye that a second pair was regarding her from further away.

"They deserved what they got!" The voice hissed angrily, the crimson eyes narrowed. "They abandoned our Lord, they lied and renounced him. They were filth, they were cowards and should have died for him. We fixed their sins; their deaths were in service of _him_."

Tonks suppressed a shudder, the voice filled with lust when talking about Voldemort. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "You can't serve him, he's dead. He isn't here to receive your service."

She felt what must have been a hand caress her face, feeling like mist. The hiss dropped lower, and Tonks had to strain to hear what the figure said. "He may be dead, but that doesn't mean he's gone. We're here aren't we?" They ended in a laugh that sounded like a snake regurgitating a meal.

"You're vampires." It wasn't a question, Tonks had become very sure of that fact.

"Nymphadora, there may be hope for you after all." The vampire laughed and brushed a finger along her collarbone.

Tonks felt adrenaline rush through her and she wanted to tear herself from her bonds and rush out of the basement as fast as her legs could carry her, but she knew that was impossible. Vampires were exceedingly rare, but she had learned of them briefly in Auror training and she knew she wouldn't be able to escape unless the vampires allowed her to go.

"What do you want?" Tonks wasn't sure why she was asking because she definitely didn't want to know. They were evidently insane, worshipping a monster that had perished over fifteen years ago.

That earned a cold laugh from the vampire further away, a sound like a hurt bird. "That's a very open question. What you should be worried about most is what we want to do with you." The vampire's voice was a hiss but slightly weaker than the one that stood before Tonks, somewhat softer and maybe less insane.

"If you wanted to just kill me," Tonks managed to shut her eyes and take a deep breath of courage before continuing, "then you would have already done it. You want something from me."

The ghastly breath of the vampire before her brushed across her face and served to make Tonks weak and dizzy, "That's my girl." And before Tonks knew what was happening lips came down upon hers.

It wasn't quite a kiss, it was more an assault of her mouth and Tonks felt like retching. The vampire's lips were cold as ice and tasted like death and copper, but the thrall emanating from the creature was making her weak and she was sure she would pass out at any point. She used her remaining strength to throw herself away and fell against the wall behind her, shivers wracking her form. She still couldn't determine if they were male or female, or even what their voices sounded like.

Both vampires were before her, faster than she could believe, their crimson eyes hungry. It was too much, even for a trained Auror. Tonks felt like a mouse a cat had begun devouring alive, and nothing in her past years as an Auror had trained her for the feeling. She felt herself beginning to give in to the fear and despair, and knew she needed to escape before all her strength left her.

"Nymphadora, you don't need to fight us." Tonks wasn't sure which one was talking to her, and she kept her head down. She had curled into a ball with her arms wrapped around her knees. She felt the bonds on her wrists and ankles fall and her muscles sagged. She wrapped herself tighter in a ball, trying to hold onto what strength she had left.

"You're not like the others, you don't need to die. We can give you a gift." One of the vampires, the one that kissed her she suspected, guided her head up and forced her to look into its eyes and she felt tears well up in hers.

Tonks had learned about a vampire's thrall, about the compulsion that was stronger than the imperious curse, that had made willing participants out of the victims, but it was entirely different when facing it in person. With all her might, Tonks fought the compulsion that forced her to uncurl and move towards the monsters before her. She struggled against the fog that was beginning to cloud her head as the vampires seemed to wrap her up in blankets of cold darkness.

The darkness wasn't so scary anymore, she began to feel herself calm down. The coldness wasn't there anymore either, replaced by warmth and happiness as they embraced her. The stench of death and decay no longer permeated the air, replaced with the smell of toast when Sirius would bring her breakfast in bed. Tonks was so relaxed that she didn't notice when her head tilted back, and she didn't feel it when two sets of fangs dug their way into her throat on either side.

She was in a cocoon of ecstasy, cradled in the arms of loved ones who only wanted pleasure for her. It was ridiculous to fear them, to fear this, or to want to leave. This was the best Tonks had felt in her life, and she wanted the pair before her to feel the same as her, she wanted to please them. Her entire world narrowed down on the rivets of pleasure flowing through her and if she wasn't so lost in the pleasure she would hear her own wonton moans as an orgasm wracked through her.

Tonks had never wanted something more than this in her whole life, and at that moment, she knew she would do anything for those bringing her this pleasure. She would have to bring Sirius, so he could understand-

 _Sirius._

Thoughts of her lover flooded through her, pulling her from the fog filling her head. She became acutely aware of where she was and what was happening. The smell of toast had turned back to that of rotting flesh, the coldness was there, and the darkness was still terrifying but there was something else: the pain.

The pain coming from where the leaches were draining her was excruciating, she wanted to tear herself away from them. She felt _dirty_. She felt tainted, and bile rose in her stomach. Her Auror instincts kicked in and she kept her body relaxed, giving the monsters no reason to suspect she had thrown off their compulsion. She felt for her wand and luckily, they hadn't taken it.

Tonks tightened her grip on her wand and cast a spell to protect her eyes wandlessly, the vampires mistaking it for a moan. She wasn't sure how long she had been down in the basement, but her eyes would need time to adjust to the light.

Tonks felt relief as the monsters had drunk their fill and were leaning away from her, reveling the feeling of emptiness by her neck. She allowed herself to sag back against the wall, as if they had taken away all her energy. She wasn't sure what the vampires were doing but they were certainly distracted for the moment being.

Tonks focused all her thoughts on the only vampire-repelling spell she knew, which hopefully she could muster enough strength to use. She was beginning to become magically exhausted after losing so much of her life force to the creatures before her. She practiced the spell over and over in her mind.

"Nymphadora, you need not to die. Become one of us, and you can have eternal life. You can feel that pleasure every day for eternity." One of the vampires, the stronger one, was leaning over her and speaking in, what she could only assume, was supposed to be a seductive tone. If Tonks hadn't shaken off the thrall, she would have agreed if for no other reason than pleasing the monsters before her.

The thought disgusted her profusely, she would rather die than become a monster.

Sensing her hesitation, the vampire leaned towards her and brushed a finger across her bite marks. "I abhor the thought of killing family, after all."

Tonk's blood ran cold as she tried to process what the vampire had told her. She didn't understand, all her relatives were dead. "Who are you?" Her voice broke as she whispered the question cautiously, leaning away from the vampire before him.

The vampire who had remained somewhat quiet until this point spoke, further away than the other. "We are offering you a gift, there is no greater gift an immortal could give a mortal, and yet you hesitate, do you truly want death?"

Tonks pretended to contemplate the idea for a moment. This was her chance, the vampires seemed to believe they were truly convincing her into this ridiculous idea. She wanted to know their identity, but she could learn that when they were dead.

Gathering all of the strength she had available, she pulled out her wand and screamed the spell.

A burst of white light filled the rather small basement, sprouting from her wand. The light was conjured so it gave everything a rather 2-dimensional appearance, with no shadows, and touched every inch and crack of the space. Despite the spell she cast to save her eyes, she still had to squint with the pain of intense light.

The vampires before her let out screams that reminded her of rusty chains grinding together and threw themselves across the room against the opposite wall in agony but were unable to escape the light. The light wouldn't kill them, just emancipate them with the pain of it.

Tonks groaned and pulled herself up into a standing position, feeling the enormous drain on her magic that the spell had caused. She waited for a moment for the dizziness to go away and her mind to clear, her body was screaming in protest and her pain doubled. She slowly opened her eyes and looked over the area, it completely empty save for the bloodstains along the walls and a set of old wooden stairs.

The vampires against the wall were hiding behind their cloaks, still twisted in agony and screaming. One was significantly taller than the other, but aside from that, they both wore the same back, torn robes. She wasn't sure who they were, but she couldn't risk going to them. She would cast a sealing spell on the door to trap them in with the light while she called for reinforcements.

She limped her way towards the stairs, her eyes never leaving the screaming duo.

"You'll die for this! We'll tear you apart for this just as we will tear apart your weak partner. You will never, never be safe!" Tonks could barely understand the words from the shorter creature in between the screaming.

Tonks froze on the first step, turning to fully face the duo. What if they escaped? If they escaped, they would come for their revenge without a doubt. If that revenge was only on her, she could live with that, but it was for Sirius, as well. She couldn't let that happen, she couldn't take the chance. If she killed the duo, then it would stop the murders for all.

She edged her way towards the duo warily. To kill a vampire, one needed to remove their heads and burn their bodies. She could burn their bodies easily, she just needed to be close to cast the severing spell on them. Tonks moved slowly, watching for any sign of movement towards her but they both seemed intent on hiding from the scalding light.

Tonks came to stand before the taller of the two and raised her wand, it was clear that it was a man she was standing before. She saw the top of his head that wasn't covered by his cloak, and the brown hair that rested there. She wanted to grab his cloak and pull it down, to see his face, to see the monster that had murdered people so brutally.

She opened her mouth and began to say the severing spell, marking the end of the killing.

Faster than she could have reacted to, the smaller figure twisted around from under their cloak. Tonks felt indescribable pain in her chest and looked down at the hand that had crushed muscle and flesh to her heart.

Tonk's dead body fell through the floor with a dull thud.

"What a pity." The smaller vampire smirked and held her heart to its mouth and drank the blood that spilled out.

The spell ended, and everything went back to impenetrable darkness.

!

Familiar shades of pink and yellow were faded across the sky and Harry relaxed, knowing that he was dreaming.

He took a deep breath and let his eyes trail across the glade, where the warm cottage was aglow with evening light and his partner was sitting in their spot under the tree. Harry came to take his seat, facing the eternal sunset over the forest. He wondered if his dream partner would say something to him again and it seemed likely if he wanted it badly enough; it was his dream after all, and the person was a figment of his dreams.

"Hello." Harry looked over to the person in the other chair and offered a soft smile. He wanted to say something to prompt them to speak, but he wasn't sure what had made them do it the previous time.

A warm breeze brushed through Harry's hair gently and his companion didn't seem to take any notice. They sat as still as they ever had, silently watching the waning sun. Harry waited, turning to face the ethereal being beside him, wishing he had a face or any features he could attribute to them.

This was Harry's dream after-all, his sanctuary so he should be able to twist it to how he wanted. He tried to imagine what his companion could look like. They would be a man, of course, with dark hair and a smile warm enough to match the sunset they always watched. The thought warmed Harry's heart considerably, but he still wished he could look over and see the features he had created for his companion.

Harry turned to fully face the other chair and grinned. The man who sat beside Harry would have thick black hair, defined features, and deep blue eyes. The man would smile and fill Harry with a warmth that would fill his belly like a meal, and they would enjoy their beautiful surroundings together.

"I was under the impression that that was precisely what we have done for many years now, Harry." The voice that came from the person beside him was soft and blended with the wind, leaving his mind as easily as it had entered it.

The excitement that filled Harry's belly was undeniable and he looked at the figure beside him, sure now that they had spoken with him. They hadn't moved or given any sign that they spoke but that didn't bother Harry as much as it had the previous time. He had to think for a moment as to what the being was referring to.

"Usually, when you spend time with another, you speak with them." Harry knew he was still beaming but he didn't care; he didn't know what had suddenly got the man to speak he wanted to encourage it. Nerves ran through him, hoping the man would keep conversing with him.

"This is the first time you have addressed me," The wind-like voice breathed calmly.

Happiness bubbled in his belly like butterflies, and Harry nodded in agreement. "I didn't know that you could speak with me."

"Almost anything can converse, in their own way," observed his companion.

"Why do I dream about you?" The question burst from Harry before he could contain it, his mind swirling with questions. "Why can't I see what you look like?" If I created you, Harry left out. It was still, to converse with someone who wasn't real, let alone be so excited about it.

"Just because this is in your head doesn't mean I'm not real." The man answered back stronger this time, and if Harry was able to remember the way it sounded he would almost say it was wistful.

Harry regarded the ethereal being curiously, "you're just a part of my dream." He felt a pang in his stomach after saying it, realizing how rude it must have sounded.

Panic rose in him like foam as his partner remained silent. Harry couldn't lose contact now, after sixteen years of silence. His dream partner had been one of the only constants he could always be sure of, a safe place within the confines of his own mind.

Harry opened his mouth to whisper an almost desperate apology, but his companion's softly asked question stopped him. "What if this is my dream and you are the one that has been venturing into it?"

Harry's brow furrowed, and he opened his mouth to retort, to say that the idea was ridiculous, but the words died on his tongue. The thought hadn't ever occurred to him, and suddenly he felt very small and ignorant.

That would answer a great many questions, as to why he could dream of a place he had never seen or how he could dream of the same thing so perfectly ever since could remember. He felt himself grow excited at the new knowledge and possibilities that it opened; the main exhilarating idea flittering through his mind was that this place, his sanctuary, might actually be real.

Before Harry could become excited, dread poured into his heart like lead. If this place was real and so was the person he had been sharing dreams with all his life: What did it mean?

From what he had learned from divination, it was extremely rare for a Psychic to enter another's dream and that was only a single time. How was he able to enter the same person's dream so often for his whole life? The person had begun speaking to him to comment on Harry's thoughts, so whoever this being was could be a talented legitimens and was able to get into his head without Harry noticing.

Harry tried to calm his thoughts and wrangle himself before he began to panic, but he never felt the panic rise. The person who he had spent so much time within dreams was not his enemy, that much he knew with every fiber of his being. This meadow had always been where he could clear his mind and let the worries of the world fade away and he knew it could never be a place of malevolence.

It scared Harry, that he could come to face with such a terrifying idea and yet remain so calm. He had questions, of course, if this idea was true, but he wasn't inherently distrustful of a person that he felt as close to as he did Sirius. It wasn't rational thinking, but there was something deep within himself that was soothed around the being and knew he could trust them.

The man, that Harry felt pretty sure was accurate, just sat silently as Harry proceeds his thoughts. Harry wondered what the man was thinking, if he wanted Harry to be here or if he was just an intruder in the man's mind. The thought of being an intruder here was ridiculous, Harry knew, this was his home as much as it belonged to his companion. This was somewhere only they know, and it belonged to them both.

Far too soon, too soon for Harry to even form the questions he wanted to ask the man, the telltale signs of wakefulness engulfed him. The sunset began fading and the warmth of the meadow was dwindling. "No, not yet!" He had so many questions to ask, so much he needed to discuss with the man, so they dream couldn't end yet.

He could have sworn that there was a smile on his companion's featureless face as he began to fade away with the dream. "Good-bye, for now, Harry."

Harry was pulled away from the dream and for the first time, he remembered how the man had sounded. He remembered only one word: _Harry_.

!

"In light of recent events, trips to Hogsmeade have been canceled until further notice." The headmistress's stern voice cut through the good cheer of the students in the Great Hall. "No student is to leave the grounds without express permission from a professor."

Groans echoed through the great hall in response to McGonagall's announcement. This weekend was supposed to be the first trip to Hogsmeade, which students had been buzzing about for weeks. Ron especially seemed disappointed, grumbling in between the bacon he was inhaling like pigs were going extinct.

Harry wasn't surprised by the announcement. The Daily Profit had arrived this morning, bringing news of another body found liked to the cult killer case that Sirius and Tonks were in charge of solving. After the post had arrived, Harry had become aware of all the stares he was receiving at the news. The killings were very clearly liked to Voldemort, and because of that, they were also linked to him.

Harry thought of his godfather, wondering how the case was proceeding. After hearing about the second body, he figured not so well. It was unlike Sirius or Tonks to go so long without owling him, and he decided to go to the Owlery that night to send them a letter. He didn't want to distract them during a case, but he was beginning to worry.

That's ridiculous, Harry thought, to worry for his godfather too much. Sirius and Tonks were the best Aurors in the Ministry and Harry knew they could take care of each other. Pride swelled in him as he remembered all the ceremonies he had attended for Sirius, giving him metals for his service. His godfather was one of the best, and Harry hoped one day he could live up to the standard Sirius had set.

"Still no word from Sirius?" Harry looked up at Hermione, who was watching him push his eggs around on his plate.

Harry shook his head.

"Well, I'd be surprised to hear it was a wizard doing the killing." The trio turned to look at Fred, George and a few of the other Gryffindors reading the article about the killing.

Ron gave his brother's a confused star, his mouth hanging open slightly displaying his half-chewed breakfast. "What else would it be? They were followers of You-Know-Who."

The twins shot him a look of exasperation before Fred retorted, "I know you're not the sharpest tool in the shed little brother, but surely you can't think he didn't have magical creatures serving him too."

George quipped, "Like werewolves-"

"And Trolls-"

"And Vampires-"

"And Dementors-"

The twin's list of creatures didn't seem to be ending and Harry was going to cut in, but Hermione beat him to the punch. "Most of those are too dumb or conspicuous to be the killers, the victims were killed in or close to villages after-all."

George gave the brown-haired girl a shrug and mischievous smile. "Well it was no Witch or Wizard that tore apart those people, Hermione, I'll bet all our joke fund on that."

Harry saw Hermione flush slightly and jumped in, to lessen the awkward silence that had begun to creep in. "Yeah, and where would we without your nonstop pranks if you couldn't afford to pull them." He gave the twins a mirthful smile.

Fred gave him a saucy wink, "In a much more boring school, I'm sure."

"In a much more, peaceful school," Ron grumbled and jumped as George tickled his side in response.

The group joked around a bit more before supper ended and it was time to get to class. Harry noticed a certain blond staring him down from the Slytherin table. Draco gave him a small nod, unnoticeable to anyone who wasn't looking for it.

Draco needed to talk to him, so once the group started getting up to leave for potions, he made an excuse to wait around behind.

The blond finally strolled out of the hall and saw Harry standing alone in a dark alcove. He can over to the dark -aired boy and they walked towards the dungeons, down a corridor that wasn't often used. Harry could smell the faint musk of the blonde's cologne and wondered if Draco had always worn it but were always too occupied for him to notice. Draco looked tense but seemed to calm down as they got out of view, lightly brushing his hand against Harry's.

Once they got far enough, Draco grabbed his arm and stopped them. "Have you been okay?"

Wondering where the blonde's concern was coming from, Harry slowly nodded. "Yes, why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know, maybe because of the murders that are practically screaming 'dark lord'." Draco had his signature sneer, but his eyes held no anger, just fear. "Harry, what if you're really in trouble?" His voice was soft, and he turned so his back was to the black-haired boy.

Harry wrapped his arms around Draco's slim waist instinctively, unsure of how to comfort the blonde. This was the first time Draco had ever said anything like this to him. In fact, this was the most personal conversation the two had ever had that wasn't about sex. Harry really wasn't concerned for himself, only concerned for Sirius and Tonks. His godfather had never let any harm come to him ever and there was nothing Sirius couldn't handle. Harry hadn't ever been concerned for his life in the past, not when he had Sirius. He wasn't sure how to put this in words for his very concerned lover though.

"Nothing will happen to me, I swear." He stroked his hands along the blonde's flat stomach, noting how slim he was.

"Father hinted something, Harry. After the quidditch match, he said he doesn't think you're going to be an obstacle for much longer." Draco's voice broke but he relaxed into Harry's embrace. Harry was shocked at how much concern the blonde had for him and couldn't help but feel touched.

"Your father is full of empty threats and hates me. Sirius would tell me if there was any indication that I might be in trouble. Even if I was, then I have Sirius watching out for me." Harry expected that to perk up the blonde, but it didn't seem to help much. He beamed and tickled the blonde's side and snicker, "I'd put up too much of a fight anyway, I am the savior of the wizarding world after all." He joked.

Draco turned around in his embrace and gave Harry an odd look, a red hue around the corners of his eyes. "Do you remember that night at all?" He held onto the dark-haired boy's hips tightly.

Harry was surprised by the odd question, something no one had ever asked him. He shook his head instinctively, he was only a year old after all. His chest tightened, and he wasn't sure why, but he felt that wasn't entirely true. He shrugged and looked away. "I can't remember it but… I guess sometimes I still hear screaming in my dreams. It doesn't happen often, but I think it was when he killed my mom." He suddenly felt self-conscious, being so open about something only the dream-man knew about. This isn't the time to think about him, Harry thought vehemently.

Draco pulled him closer, but Harry felt no desire to be so close to anyone at the moment, he wanted to pull away and be by himself. Despite his protests, Draco pulled Harry into a tight embrace that was completely out of character for the blonde. "Harry, can I trust you with something? It's nonsense but I can't get it out of my head."

Harry nodded, still uncomfortable with being so open with the Slytherin. It didn't feel right to be so open with anyone, especially when the secret he told was something he only shared with his dream-companion and it felt wrong to allow someone else to know. Harry pushed the thought from his mind, he didn't even know if the man in his dreams was real, and he wasn't sure he wanted to.

"Father was speaking to mother about the killings while I was back to the Manor for her birthday. It's pure speculation, but father believes the killer thinks _you know who_ didn't die that night." Draco spoke quickly.

Harry pulled back and stared gave Draco an inquisitive look. "You know that isn't true, right? This killer is insane, nothing more. If Voldemort was still alive, we would know."

"Yeah," The blond nodded but didn't sound convinced. "Yeah. You're right." He hugged Harry tighter and he returned the embrace, wanting to comfort the blonde.

Voldemort was dead. There was no doubt in Harry's mind that that was the truth. Voldemort died that night; his parents' deaths were not in vain.

The boys stood there embracing for a moment, and Harry felt awkward with the intimacy. He cared for the skinny blonde, but he didn't think of himself as a very open person. They had done everything except for fully having sex, but Harry still felt wrong in such an emotional embrace with his lover.

He willed himself to feel more comfortable being held, but he couldn't get the thought of the man in his dreams out of his head. Harry's dreams were the only times he felt okay with opening himself up because it was most likely all in his head. The way the man's presence made him feel was addicting; it was like Harry was a river, with nothing to worry about but flowing and the rest came naturally. He used to hardly ever think of his dream companion in his waking hours, but it seemed to be happening more often lately.

Harry pulled away from the blond, they had to get to potions class. Draco left first so they wouldn't walk in together, he gave Harry a long kiss before he left. Harry watched his lover leave and leaned against the cost stone wall, closing his eyes and trying to shake the feeling of dread that was creeping into him after that conversation.

He decided he needed to get some answers and decided to head to the library that evening to understand why he was having the dreams of that man. His head was swirling as he made his way to potions.

!

Potions class was about as interesting as the wizard who taught it thought Harry. If he hadn't needed to take the class in order to become an Auror, Harry would definitely not attend, but it was mandatory. It seemed as though Snape had gotten more lenient with him through the years, once it became clear that he really was willing to work as hard as he could in the class. Potions was the one class he never let his attention wander or socialized, as difficult as that was because he knew if he lost focus then he would definitely end up failing.

Once Harry started caring more about his future just recently when in his previous years the house cup was his top priority. It's true, the house cup was pretty high on his priority list, but he still wanted to focus on his future too. Maybe Hermione is rubbing off on me, Harry grinned. He tried to imagine himself older wearing the red Auror robes Sirius always wore. It was an odd image, especially when he imagined his family with him.

Aside from his the Weasleys, Hermione, and Sirius and Tonks, he couldn't picture what that family might look like. Harry snuck a glance away from his potion to look at Draco who was looking rather smug with how his potion turned out and felt his stomach twist. The blond Slytherin was someone he could see himself building a life with but no matter how hard he tried to actually imagine it, it wouldn't work. It felt like he was trying to jam a puzzle piece in that just wasn't its place.

Harry looked back at his own potion that was going surprisingly well. It was always extra exciting whenever his potions turned out, something that didn't always happen for him.

"Mate, how did you get it to turn silver?" Ron groaned into his own potion that was a sickly green color.

"Really, Ronald, you put in Fungal-wood instead of Toad-stool. You were supposed to have your ingredients prepared yesterday." Harry chuckled as Hermione leaned across from the other side of Ron the chastise him. Ron's ears went beat-red and he shrugged.

Harry looked up to see a bob of blond hair appear in front of them. Draco had sauntered over after handing Snape in his perfectly brewed potion and was examining the ginger's potion. What was the blond thinking? Harry felt a tinge of panic as he stared down the blond, keeping his face as neutral as he could.

"Well Weasley, you certainly mimicked spew, but I don't think that's what we were aiming for here." There was no bite to the blonde's tone, merely amused observation like the two were friends.

Ron glared at the blond from across his potion, which did coincidently resemble spew much to Harry's amusement. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

The blond shrugged and smiled as if Ron had just told him a joke. "Nothing much, Weasel-by. I just wanted to mention using some of this." He held up a leafy stem for Ron to see. "It'll help. Then the rest of us won't have to smell your vile potion from the other side of the room." He set the stem down and sauntered over to his clan of Slytherins. Harry shot him an incredulous look which was answered by a small wink.

"Fuck that," Ron sniffed and ignored the ingredient Malfoy had left him. "It will probably just make my potion explode."

Hermione grabbed the stem and regarded in for a moment, her eye-browed scrunched in thought. "This is Tangle-wood. It actually may help, Ronald." She said diplomatically.

Ron shook his head and stirred his concoction with vigor. "No. No way. Anything the ferret would give me would definitely ruin my potion."

Harry shot his friend a crooked grin, "Mate, I don't think anything could make it worse." He winked at Hermione who shook her head but hid a smile behind her hand.

Before Ron could protest, the brunette quickly tossed the stem into his potion. Harry gave Hermione a grin and they leaned forward to look at the reaction.

"'Mione! Now, look what you've-"Ron's angry mumbles were cut off as almost instantly the potion started changing from a sickly green to the silver it should have resembled. The texture and smell weren't quite right, but it was significantly better than it had been.

The baffled trio turned to the Slytherin side of the classroom where Malfoy had his feet propped up on the desk and was talking loudly with his usual group. Ron and Hermione started bickering about the potion, Ron not trusting the change and Hermione trying to get him to just hand it in.

Why did the Slytherin help them like that? Harry realized he was staring when Blaise Zambini glared at him and he turned away. He occupied himself with bottling his own well-done potion. He had the color and smell right but it was a little bit watery, but it should still count as a pass. It unnerved him to see Draco acting so civil in front of everyone and he wondered what prompted it. He figured their last conversation must have affected the blonde more than he suspected.

A loud _boom_ filled the classroom.

Harry shook the thoughts of the blond out of his head and turned around to see poor Neville covered in the black potion that stuck to him like tar.

"Oh Neville, are you okay mate?" Harry rushed over along with the other Gryffindors to make sure the boy hadn't accidentally poisoned himself. The tar-like potion was all over his desk and covered him from almost head to toe. The Gryffindor turned pale and looked as though he was about to faint, he was frozen as if moving would set off another explosion.

"How they let you into this level potions I'll never know, you foolish boy." Snape stormed from his desk to the back of the classroom like a bat gliding through the air. The group of students pre-emptively parted to allow the potions master to pass. Neville seemed too shocked to say anything.

Snape growled an angry cleaning charm, but the boy's skin seemed to be stained black. "Weasley, take Longbottom to the Nurse before he and destroy anything else in my classroom."

Ron nodded and quickly cleaned up his space. He let the still stunned Neville lean on him as they stumbled out of the classroom.

Snape returned to his post at the front of the classroom but seemed to be in a significantly worse mood than before. "That is the end of the class." They still should have had another 10 minutes to finish their potions, but no one dared mention it when Snape was in such a dangerous mood. "Hand in what you have and clean your work area, if I see any messes you'll have detention for a week."

The class was silent as they cleaned their work areas, Harry and Hermione ensured Ron's area was perfectly clean too. They were the last to hand in their potions when Snape stopped him, "I'm sure you won't mind cleaning you follow Gryffindor's area, Potter. You too Granger." The greasy git didn't pose it as a question, and Harry was sure it wasn't.

The Gryffindors gave each other a look and Harry answered in an overly polite tone, "not at all, professor."

Snape gave them one last disinterested look as he disappeared through the door beyond his desk, which Harry assumed to be his private chambers, leaving the Gryffindors alone.

They got to work immediately, trying to get the job done as quickly as possible. Harry tried to avoid the subject, but the brunette automatically brought up the way Malfoy had acted. The bushy-haired girl bit her lip and didn't sound malicious or even suspicious, but genuinely confused towards the blonde's change of heart. "Maybe he's just not that interested in your pretty rivalry as much as he used to be. You too, do seem to be fighting less." She observed nonchalantly.

Harry regarded his best friend from the corner of his eye as she scrubbed the stain off of Neville's chair, looking for signs that she knew more than she was letting on. Hermione seem didn't seem to know what the implications of her last statement were so Harry let out a soft breath and released the tension from his shoulders and kept scrubbing.

"Malfoy has been less of a prat lately," Harry nodded in agreement, keeping his voice light and almost disinterested.

They made quick work of the mess, even if it was awful to get the thick, black potion off the desk. "Neville definitely owes us," Harry observed as they collected the rest of the ingredients that Neville hadn't used.

Hermione hummed in agreement and they made their way to the cabinet the held the potions materials for their year. The cabinet was organized meticulously, obviously Snape's doing. They placed everything inside delicately.

"That's odd," Hermione observed as she picked up a small bundle of flowers. "This definitely doesn't belong to our year, Neville shouldn't have had it."

Harry regarded the ingredient with interest, "What do you think it is? I've never seen it before."

Hermione shut the cabinet, still holding the flowers. "It's Brightweed. I've read about it before, it's extremely rare and volatile, it must have been what caused Neville's potion to explode like that. It must have been misplaced from Professor Snape's stock."

They both looked up at the door opposite of the one Snape had disappeared through. Through there was Snape's private lab and students were expressively not allowed to enter.

"Should we just leave it at his desk then?" Harry shuddered at the thought of what would happen if they disturbed Snape in his private chambers.

Hermione shook her head and moved the flower as far away from her body as possible. "We can't, its highly volatile and needs to be stored properly…" She paused for a moment. "Unless we want to see his desk explode."

Harry shot her a mischievous grin, "it would be a sight to see wouldn't it?" The brunette gave him a disapproving look, but he could see the amusement in her eye. "Yeah, you're right. Lets just quickly put it in his lab and get out of here."

They made their way over to the door and stood before it, neither of them wanting to touch the handle as if Snape would jump out of the room and hex them to pieces. Harry sighed and grabbed the door knob, pleased that he wasn't instantly hexed to bits.

"Well, that's a good sign." Harry laughed and heaved the heavy door open.

As soon as the door opened they were hit with the stench of spices and cleaning spells. The room was much larger than it should have been, obviously enchanted and had cases along most of the walls with ingredients and books. In the middle of the room stood a work table perfect to hold up to three potions at a time. It was rather bright, an enchanted window in the corner showed the view from the astronomy tower and a potion seemed to be steaming in the sunlight underneath it.

"Let's just find where this goes and get going before Snape sees us," Hermione muttered and started looking in the cabinets along the walls.

Harry hummed in agreement and starting to trail along the cabinets along his side of the room. The ingredients were almost unnerving from twigs all the way to dried organs and everything in between. There was a smaller cabinet in the corner of the room that looked as though it normally locked but Harry wasn't able to find the lock.

Harry looked into the small cabinet with interest noticing a bundle of familiar plants that were bound together with leather. Surprised at recognizing an ingredient he leaned in closer, barely hearing Hermione tell him that she had found where the flowers were supposed to go. The plants were in a small bundle with a few other ingredients that he didn't wasn't quite so interested in, and there was a small case that held tiny vials of a bright, cherry red potion.

"It's Fluxweed." Harry was surprised to see the plant they had only just learned about in Herbology.

Harry noticed Hermione lean in to look into the case, as well. "Neville said they grew it for Snape. Why is it locked in a cabinet when there are rarer ingredients that are not?"

Harry shook his head and noticed the small case of potions had a tiny description written on it in Snape' s smooth writing.

"Harry, come on we need to go. I think I heard something in Snape's rooms." Hermione gave Harry's shoulder a small tug in the direction of the door.

With a small sigh, Harry turned around and followed her out. They kept an eye on Snape's chambers as they ran out of the classroom. The pair didn't calm down until halfway up to the Gryffindor tower.

"So, what was written on the case of those weird potions anyway?" Hermione questioned as they made their way to their dorms.

Harry scrunched his nose, trying to remember exactly how it looked. "It was hard to read, but I'm pretty sure it was called 'Bloodborne', have you heard of it?"

Hermione shook her head in response, "That sounds so familiar like I've read it somewhere but can't remember. That's strange, I always remember." She sounded genuinely troubled as she made her way to the girl's dorm.

Putting the weird potion out of his mind, Harry turned around and headed back out of the common room. He was determined to find out what was going on with his dreams, and figure out if his dream may be more real than he believed.


	5. The Imperious Curse

**I am so sorry about the wait guys! I know this chapter had taken forever!**

 **Thank you guys so much for the reviews! I feel horrible for making you wait so long for this chapter. Thank you Faqeera, Perhentian, TMarvoloRiddle1944 ( I have noticed that I have been putting a little more Draco/Harry in than I had intended but *hint* that won't last much longer), Luna Radcliff (I love writing the Harry/ Tom scenes and they will becoming a larger part of the story soon), hiina, and guest**

The library was dark when Harry realized he should begin heading back to the Gryffindor common room. The hall was mostly empty, save for a small group of Ravenclaws huddled at a table far from him. Harry yawned and turned looked out the window close to him and regarded the pink hues the sun was throwing across the sky as it sunk below the forbidden forest, curfew would be soon, and he wasn't interested in an unpleasant meeting with Filtch.

He looked down at the old book before him, it was one of the only books he could find on dream magic. The majority of the book was how to defend yourself if an enemy were to send you hostile dreams, but they were always temporary, and the attacker had to mark the victim in some way first. There was a small section of wizards who became bonded and would share dreams with their partner, but they would share a telepathic link while awake if that were the case.

The section of the book that drew Harry's attention was one that spoke of magic creatures. There was a small list of creatures that had 'mates' and would share dreams once they were bonded. Harry wasn't sure that was the case either, as in the case for almost every magical creature they could not form a bond with their mate until the mate had turned 17, which Harry was not. The description fit Harry's circumstances the best though, aside from him having the dreams for as long as he could remember.

Harry was somewhat disappointed, he was hoping to have somewhat of an understanding of what was happening to him. The thought kept nagging at him that maybe his dream companion was simply a figment of his imagination, a friend when Sirius was busy working that never went away. Harry was reluctant to believe that, however, the thought of his dream companion being real was as exciting as it was terrifying.

Harry wasn't sure why the idea of a real person visiting his dreams didn't unnerve him, it certainly should. He wanted to talk to Ron and Hermione about it, but he couldn't bring himself to. It felt like the man from his dreams was his own little secret and belonged to a different Harry. In his dreams, Harry wasn't a Gryffindor, an orphan or a Quidditch player- he was just Harry. It felt wrong to allow anyone else into his personal sanctuary.

Maybe the man from his dreams was real and not a figment of his imagination, maybe he was just an ordinary wizard who needed sanctuary, just like Harry did after becoming orphaned. There was nothing evil about that, just a meeting like similar souls who need peace.

Harry signed in resignation, the mystery would not be solved tonight. He looked up and noticed the group of Ravenclaws had already left. He piled his notes on top of his book and shrugged his jumper back over his head, surprised at how dark the library had become. He turned to regard the dying sun one last time, watching the last of its light cascade its light across the forest. The Hogwarts grounds looked beautiful in the evening, Harry decided that he would go flying soon to have a better view. As he was admiring the small sliver of the lake visible from this side of the castle, a flicker of movement far below caught his eye.

Harry squinted as best as he could, he could see two dark figures gliding along through the shadows of the forbidden forest, heading into their dark depths. It was too dark and too far away for Harry to be able to recognize them, but he still scrunched his face trying to figure out who would be crazy enough to head into the forest at night. Harry noticed one of the figures wasn't wearing a cloak but had a blue jumper on instead, but that was the only distinguishing characteristic he could see.

Harry watched until the two had disappeared into the forest before he turned his back and headed out of the library, pondering the notes he had written and the lack of any leads. He had to go back and forget a book he left on the table called: _Obscure uses for flora in potions_ , it was one Hermione wanted since seeing Snape's private potion room.

 **BoundByBlood**

"My friend, if you would tell me who the imitators are, I would be more than willing to remove the problem they have created," Severus said stiffly as they made their way into the darkness of the forest. He gripped the vial of red liquid tighter as anger coursed through him at the thought of the killings in the name of their dead lord.

Riddle glided along beside him like a shadow, if Severus didn't feel the waves of dark magic rolling off the man, he wouldn't have noticed him. "Don't worry yourself with them, Severus, they pose no threat. Voldemort is dead and if they believe these archaic messages for me will change anything then they have become more magic than when they were human."

"Their change of Voldemort's mark is revolting and a disgrace," Severus added darkly. He scratched his forearm absent-mindedly, he was not a fan of the mark but it was disturbing to see the profane change of it.

"They are currently on their way to Hogwarts. Why search them out when they could meet me on my turf where I have the advantage?" Riddle chuckled softly.

"You know what happened to Nymphadora Tonks." Snape said softly, an inexplicable pang of pity filling his heart for Black. "Black is going to do something rash."

The dark-haired man seemed to grin slightly, but Severus could have been mistaken. "Black is a trained Auror, he can handle himself. Though if Harry were to lose his godfather, he'd be alone, save for me."

Severus felt a rush of unexpected anger through him and stopped in his tracks, "That will destroy Potter and you know it."

Tom stopped in his tracks, rounding to face the potions professor. His eyes glowed brightly, standing out bright against his pure white skin. Severus's gaze landed on the man's bow-like crimson lips, with sharp incisors poking out slightly. "My relationship with Harry is my business, I will not allow him to suffer unnecessarily. Tonks was going to be fine if she had not gone back to little Hangleton. As long as Black does not do anything idiotic, he will be fine."

Severus cocked his head to the side, "And what of Harry then, Tom? What if they target him because he is the boy who lived? Their previous targets were those who turned their back on Voldemort's cause after your fall, who's to say they won't try to kill him for you?"

Riddle's body stiffened slightly but continued walking into the forest, forcing Severus to follow begrudgingly. "They will not attack Harry. They have left him at the end of their game. They expect me to welcome them here, to kill Harry and rejuvenate the death eaters. They expect me to follow the trail of gifts they have created and rejoice in the completion of the game. In any case, they will be dead long before they ever try to hurt him."

Riddle's tone was venomous, and Snape knew better than to comment on the topic any further. He tried to imagine the men behind the attacks, running through the list of Death-eaters through his mind. The majority of them were either dead or in Azkaban. He wondered if Black knew who he was dealing with, or what he was dealing with. The man's distress would normally be satisfying for him, but Severus felt cold at the thought of the man who tormented him throughout his childhood being in such a state. He would get over his loss, in time.

Severus suppressed a shiver as he followed Riddle deeper into the forest. No light permeated the thick blanket of trees and the noise from the castle was no longer audible. It was dark and ominously quiet, save for the soft crunch of leaves beneath the potions professor's shoes, Riddle glides through the path like a ghost- or predator stalking its prey. Severus liked to imagine the former, it gave him more peace. He wasn't afraid of Riddle, not anymore, but he knew that could change in a moment notice.

"I could speak with him in our dream, Severus." Riddle's smooth baritone cut through the silence smoother than a warm knife through butter.

Severus' eyes shot up in surprise. "Potter? Your bond is drawing you closer, it is less than a year and a half now before he is mature and will feel it, too."

Riddle was silent for a minute, allowing the knowledge to wash over him like a warm shower. "I would have expected him to grow more of an attachment by now." His tone was light, but Severus could hear the dark depth beneath. He snapped a stick aggressively beneath his foot, startling the potions professor.

"You haven't given it an opportunity to grow, all he knows from you is hate." Severus pointed out, slightly worried his words would anger the vampire before him.

Riddle stopped and turned to face him. Severus stared for a moment, it was not very often he saw the man getting ready for a feeding, free from bounds and in the darkness. Riddle's pale skin glowed as if the moon reflected light from within him, he seemed taller and more muscular. His movements were smoother than a viper's, but Severus knew the vampire before him was much faster than a snake at the moment, and if he chose to make Severus a meal then the potions master would be dead before he even realized it.

The most notable change was Riddle's eyes, which were a vivid red, brighter than blood. Severus cast his eyes down, unable to look at the vampire before him without shivering. He felt coldness radiating out from the beast before him, similar to what he had felt when he was unfortunate enough to come close to a Dementor of Azkaban. The creature before him was a predator, meant to take a life as easily as breathing.

"The boy is my mate, I should not need to pander to his emotional whims to gain his attention." Riddle's voice was a hiss and could have easily belonged to a snake. He took a silent step closer to Severus.

Severus quickly reached into his robe and grabbed the deep red potion that had been nestled safely in his pocket. He uncorked the top before handing it to the terrifyingly hostile vampire before him. "Of course, I didn't mean any offense. Tom, you must take your potion before something ...regrettable happens."

Riddle seemed to realize himself and took a step back from the potions master. He reached behind himself and easily slipped his navy jumper off, leaving his chest bare. The vampire nodded and grabbed the potion, finishing it in a single drink.

Severus felt a sense of calm when the glow of Riddle's skin seemed to dull, and his eyes became a deeper, less intense form of red. "Thank you, my friend."

Riddle took a moment to let the potion flow through him before he answered, "It has been too long since I have hunted, being around Potter is becoming more difficult."

Severus nodded slowly and thought carefully before speaking, not wanting to offend the volatile vampire before him. "Perhaps it will soon be time for you to leave Hogwarts, Tom, until the boy comes of age."

"I will not leave _him,_ Severus, you know that." Riddle hissed back. "I will remain here until he comes of age and then we will leave together, but not before that, especially with the threat on its way." He paused and looked up through the dense to the castle beyond, that was aglow with moonlight. Riddle's posture relaxed slightly, and his face softened, Severus could see his eyes glowing with a different kind of hunger- a kind that would not be satiated that night. He couldn't be sure, but Severus thought the emotion that flitted across his one-time lord's face was something akin to sadness.

The thought hit him like a wave: _this is not Lord Voldemort._ Voldemort died that night, many years ago and was just a memory. Severus knew this already, but it wasn't until he saw the raw emotion on the man's face that he completely believed it. The man before him wasn't Tom Riddle, the boy who killed hundreds and became a dark lord. Tom Riddle had become something more, someone Severus didn't quite understand and didn't think he ever would.

Snape cast his eyes to the mossing ground, feeling like an intruding during Riddle's personal moment. He was never one to handle emotion well and he knew that any words he could say would cheapen the moment for Riddle.

"Did I ever tell you why I was so well suited to becoming a tyrant, Severus?" Tom murmured.

Severus raised an eyebrow at the vampire before him and shook his head in response.

"The whore who gave birth to me had fed a filthy muggle a love potion." Tom let out a hollow, humorless chuckle. "I was conceived under its influence. A member of the Slytherin bloodline raped a simple muggle and was cast aside once she released him from the potion's influence. I was not able to ever feel love because of it, I wasn't even able to understand it. ***** "

"Before I met Harry…" Riddle spoke softly, barely more than a whisper. "Before I met Harry, I did not have a wide range of emotions. I murdered my own father and felt nothing but satisfaction. I tore my soul into so many pieces that drove me into my own brand of insanity. I build walls around myself, so high and so impenetrable that no one could save me anymore. When I heard the prophesy, I was so ready, so willing to kill a child. I thought nothing of it, of course, I had killed many others before.

"I arrived at the Potters, and Harry just stared up at me." Riddle paused, as in lost in his own thoughts, his gaze never once turning away from Hogwarts. "He looked me in the eye, a monster, after witnessing me kill his mother and did not cry. It had been many years that anything had managed to unnerve me before then, but he did. That little baby managed to shift something inside Voldemort, and it was terrifying, so I cast the curse."

Riddle's statuesque face softened into a small, sad smile. "Harry killed Voldemort and saved me. His magic tore through every wall Voldemort created, every memory, every feeling until I was all that existed- just a man made of broken pieces. It was him that filled my broken pieces with himself, made whole by the sheer power of Harry's being. I felt everything. Everything that Voldemort was never able to feel, Harry gave to me. His heart and soul filled the broken parts in me. Harry received a few things from me, he received every part of me he could, but it was never equal."

Riddle then turned to look at Snape, his face stoic once again. "That is why I will not leave Harry, because I cannot. I am as much Harry as I am myself, we share magical cores." Clearly Riddle had enough of the conversation and looked away from the school. Abruptly, the vampire began walking off down the path, further into the depths of the forest.

"I will not question that again, my friend, have a safe hunt," Severus spoke softly, stunned and unsure of what to make of the information that was recently given to him.

Riddle was already slinking into the darkness, his form blending in with the shadows as if he were born from one. "Thank you, Severus. Your potions are well brewed and do well to contain my… less than pleasant instincts." His voice even sounded more human as he slunk away, leaving the potions master alone in the silent forest. Severus was relieved, the Bloodborne potion would allow Tom to maintain a human mind as he hunted, rather than losing himself to his instincts and going on a killing spree. It would be a disaster if Tom ever hunted without it, a vampire/wizard hybrid with his power would cause unknown chaos.

Severus gave the area Riddle disappeared into one last glance before he cast a Lumos and began heading back to the castle. He snatched Riddle's jumper off the mossy ground, knowing Riddle would not think to come back for it.

 **BoundByBlood**

Sirius arrived in Little Whinging like a tsunami, boring down on the Aurors that surrounded a tiny cottage outside the village.

There was a crowd of residents who had been woken early, eager to see what was causing a ruckus in a normally quiet village. It seemed after the last few months, they had come to expect something terrible had happened. The Aurors had set up a perimeter so none of them could get too close to the house. As Sirius came upon the scene, he saw Kingsley and his under-secretary climbing up from a cellar.

"What's this about, Kingsley?" Sirius barrelled up to the man, fear growing in his chest as he caught the grim look on the man's face. "Where's Tonks?"

Kingsley placed his hand on Sirius's shoulder firmly, stopping him from entering the cellar. "Sirius, I am going to take you home. We need to speak, and it cannot be here."

"Kingsley, where is Nymphadora?" Sirius stared questioned, his voice low and apprehensive. Panic was building in him and the longer his boss gave him a look of pity, the angrier he felt.

"My friend please come with me. We cannot discuss this here-"Kingsley started but Sirius shoved the man's hand off his shoulder and past Aurors to charge down to the cellar.

A wizard he vaguely remembered from last year's trainees was climbing up the stairs as he saw Sirius. The man gave Sirius a sad nod and moved to allow him to pass. Kingsley and his group followed Sirius down swiftly.

Sirius had known death before. He felt the death of his best friends, almost every member of his family, and countless friends from the Order of the Phoenix and his life as an Auror, but he had never felt anything like this before.

Tonk's lifeless body was laid out before him, her chest torn open.

Sirius didn't feel himself fall to his knees or the cold trail of tears running down his cheeks. He didn't notice the group of Aurors who were crowded by his side or the dark mark that had plagued his nightmares for too long, he couldn't feel anything at all. He could vaguely hear someone trying to speak to him, maybe trying to move him? It didn't matter. Sirius didn't really see how anything could matter anymore.

Sirius felt his gaze involuntarily shift to the left, to the crude Hogwarts crest that had been written in blood on the wall beside his dead lover's head, barely decipherable after the blood had run but it appeared to be somewhat dried. The message was clear enough.

Sirius felt the coldness of wet blood on his knees as he shifted closer to his departed love. Blood was pooled around her, and Sirius knew it was going to be all over him too, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Numbly, he reached a blood-covered hand to brush the bangs out of her eyes. Her eyes always were so beautiful, even with the lives lost from them. His hand trembled as he tucked her blood-crusted hair behind her ear.

"Sirius… Harry." Sirius vaguely heard Kingsley whisper softly. The sound of his godson's name cutting through the numbness in his heart, filling it with anger.

He pressed one last kiss to Tonk's forehead before shakily rising to his feet.

He wiped the blood from his lips, but he knew the stain would stay with him.

 **BoundByBlood**

Harry woke up groggily. He had hoped to dream of his companion again, but he had dreams of flying through the forest on his broom instead.

Breakfast had been a fairly quiet affair, the Gryffindors were all nervous for their first lesson that day with Professor Riddle as today they would be taught how to resist the Imperious Curse. Most students were not confident of their chances of throwing it off, Harry included. Harry knew he was strong-willed, and when faced with the curse cast by his peers, he was fairly confident he could throw it off but as much as he hated to admit it- Riddle was powerful.

A curse from Riddle would be difficult to resist, Harry was sure of that. Hermione had been researching the subject and most wizards had to practice for years before learning how to throw the imperious curse off. If he wanted to become an Auror then he knew he had to learn faster, and he was hoping that today would prove he had some natural talent at it.

Harry wondered how the man's mood might affect the strength of the curse. He remembered Riddle mentioning how one's emotions can strengthen certain spells. He glanced up at the head table, but the dark-haired professor was nowhere to be found, and neither was Snape. Harry shook off his disappointment, if the professor was too busy to eat breakfast then he might be too hungry to focus on casting the curse. Strangely, the thought did nothing to deter his disappointment.

He cast one last glance up at the head table before gathering his books and following his classmates to class.

As the Gryffindors made their way to Defence Against the Dark Arts, Harry listened to the rest of his housemates discussing their tactics on how to beat the curse.

"Me Mum told me that the closer you are to the person casting it, the harder it is to throw off, or the more you like them-I guess." Seamus was saying to Dean Thomas just behind the golden trio.

Ron turned around and gave them a laugh. "Well, none of the girls in Hogwarts will have any luck against Riddle then, eh?" He gave a sharp look.

Hermione gave the ginger a shove in response, "just because professor Riddle is rather good-looking doesn't mean we'll be any less likely to throw off the curse against him, Ronald!"

Dean Thomas chuckled and beaconed to Lavender and Pavarti who were walking slightly ahead of the group, gushing loudly about their professor and how they'd do anything for him without being cursed. "Speak for yourself, Granger."

Hermione sighed loudly and shook her head at the love-struck girls. "Well, some of us at least have self-respect." She added softly, too low for them to hear.

The group arrived at the defense against the dark arts classroom and entered the empty classroom. Harry was surprised to notice that the window covers were all closed, and the light was sparse. Strangely, Riddle was nowhere to be seen in the dimly lit room. Harry couldn't shrug off the disappointment that pricked at him sharply.

Suddenly the window coverings were spelled open at once and the morning light penetrated the dark classroom. The students looked up to see an exhausted-looking Snape sitting behind Riddle's desk. Harry was surprised to see how dark the bags under the potions professor's eyes were and how pale his complexion was. "Professor Riddle will be out momentarily, everyone prepare yourselves in the meantime." With a flick of his wrist, the desks shoved themselves against the walls, clearing space in the middle of the room.

Harry tucked his books out of the way and stood by Ron and Hermione. "Riddle has never been late for class, what do you think he's doing?"

Hermione, frowning, just shrugged and cast a quick glance at the potion's professor. "I'm not sure. Is it just me or does Snape look like death today?"

"Maybe he was up and about as the giant bat he is, sucking out people's souls." Ron let out a little snicker. The image of Snape flying around as a bat caused Harry to snicker, as well.

Hermione opened her mouth, probably to reprimand the ginger before the door to Riddle's private rooms slammed open, silencing the room. Snape stiffened and turned around to see the cause of the sudden noise.

Riddle stood in the doorway and looked over the class. Harry felt his whole body stiffen, and heard a few students make sounds of surprise. Riddle looked completely different than Harry had ever seen him. The man was normally statuesque, with every strand of hair in place, no wrinkles in his clothing or any other noticeable imperfections. The man that stood before them was totally different.

Riddle ran a hand through his thick black hair that was currently as wild as Harry's own. His eyes, normally a deep blue, were almost electric and shone with a wildness that shocked Harry. Riddle wasn't wearing an outer robe, only slacks, and a muggle vest. He glided down the stairs with more grace than usual.

Harry hadn't noticed how much he was staring until Riddle's gaze landed on him and he noticed a glimmer in the older man's eye. Something in the man's stare struck something deep in Harry, something familiar that he couldn't seem to place but filled his belly with warmth. He was so busy studying the man that he didn't notice when Riddle started explaining what would happen during the lesson.

"You will break into partners and practice the curse on each other. If you properly cast the curse, you will give your partner exactly one minute to break out of it and if they do not then you will lift the curse! You will NOT force your partner to do anything other than saying your name. If you do not follow these rules, then you will be punished." He paused and scanned the students, allowing his words to sink in. Harry's heart missed a beat as the man's gaze passed over him.

Behind him, he heard a group of girls he assumed were lavender and Pavarti discussing how attractive the man looked. Harry had to stop himself from rolling his eye.

"You will not cast this curse anywhere other than this classroom. There are wards that will detect it and you will be in serious trouble. Do not think for one second that we will not know if you cast it." Riddle walked closer until he was standing before the group, his voice going cold. "To bear the type of control over others as you do with the Imperious curse is more than just a prosecutable offense, it harms your core to continually use it. Only a coward relies on such a means to control others, and unfortunately, there is a chance that you will come to face it. With that being said, you need to be prepared."

Harry felt the weight of Riddle's gaze fall on him as he continued. "Such control over others is dangerous, many great witches and wizards have succumbed to the temptation and lost themselves in the acquisition of it. If your will is strong enough, you will be able to fight off almost all those who mean to control it."

"Almost all, Sir?" Harry heard Draco ask quietly to his left.

Riddle paused for a moment and Harry thought he saw the man's gaze flash to him for a moment. "Yes, Mr. Malfoy. There are circumstances when no matter how strong your will is, your opponent will be able to control you. Can anyone give me an example?"

Hermione's hand shot up in the air quickly and Riddle gave her a short nod. "When your opponent had magical creature blood, Sir?"

Riddle gave the bushy-haired girl a slight smile that sent a shock up Harry's spine and caused the girl to blush. "Close, Ms. Granger, but a very good point. Even creatures such as Veela who have allure that can control others can be beaten if one's convictions are strong enough. The simple thing that will determine your success in throwing off the curse is your feelings toward the castor. If the castor is someone you care about or someone that you harbor some sort of emotion towards that you may not even realize, then it becomes exponentially more difficult to throw off the course. As far as magical creatures, this is true for their natural allure as it is for the imperious curse. This is one of the main reasons why Veela mates have left their families for their Veela."

"So, if someone we care about cast the curse on us, we'd have no luck shaking it off?" Harry heard Dean ask behind him.

"Depending on how skilled there are with the curse, yes. A master would be able to use negative emotions to their advantage, as well, such as strong hate. This being said, that is not much of a factor until you become very experienced, for the average duel, it is only the strength of your convictions that matters." Riddle confirmed before breaking the class up into groups. "Everyone choose a partner. Professor Snape and I will be around to help give you tips and if you or your partner are unable to cast the curse, we will for you. If any of you are successful in casting off the curse, one of us will cast it on you to give you experience with a more trained opponent."

Harry turned around to the Gryffindors to find a partner when he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Miss the chance of cursing Potty? No chance. I'm your partner Potter." Harry turned to see Draco giving him a devilish grin.

Harry rolled his eyes and followed the blond to their corner, "Whatever Malfoy, you couldn't control a puppy."

"We'll see about that, Potter," Draco said in an obnoxious tone that he knew would annoy the raven-haired boy. "I'll be kind enough to even let you go first."

Harry cocked an eyebrow at the blond-haired boy, but Draco just gave him a little nod and subtle smile.

Harry took a deep break and repeated the curse in his head a few times, preparing for it. He took a quick look around the classroom to see how the other groups were faring.

Ron was attempting to cast the curse on Hermione, his face was scrunched up in concentration but didn't seem to be having much luck. Blaise Zambini seemed to be having the best luck out of anyone, his partner Pansy Parkinson was standing there with a blank look on her face, clearly under the curse. Snape was angrily demonstrating to Seamus how to move his wand and Riddle was analyzing Parkinson with a keen eye, he caught Harry looking at him, so the Gryffindor quickly turned back to his partner.

Taking in a deep breath, Harry held his wand out before him and in a strong voice said, "Imperio."

He expected a surge of magic to flow through him to his wand, but strangely nothing happened. Frowning he looked up at Draco to see the blond shrug, surprised that the curse did not work. "Figures you'd be too much of a chicken to cast it." Draco's words were soft and could have been endearments if you weren't paying attention.

"Do you need help, Mr. Potter?" Harry felt a surge of anger as he heard Riddle come up behind him.

"No, Sir," Harry said stiffly.

Harry turned back to Draco and took a deep breath, holding out his wand. He felt the weight of Riddle's gaze on him and determination surged through him. He had to cast the curse, he couldn't look weak in front of the smug professor. In order to cast the curse, he had to have a true desire to control Draco. He looked his somewhat- boyfriend in his clear grey eyes and imagined completely dominating his will so the blond boy was staring at him blankly.

"Imperio!" Harry growled with more force and held his wand out, squeezing it tight.

Harry narrowed his eyes at the blond before him and almost groaned when he felt no magic surge through him. The curse failed again.

"Stand aside, Mr. Potter, I'll cast the curse on Draco as you're clearly unable to." Riddle drawled beside him in a sharp tone that made Harry feel like dirt. As Harry dropped his head and stood back, the professor stepped out to Draco fluidly.

Draco's brow furrowed as Riddle held his wand toward him. "As soon as the curse is cast, remember to focus, Draco. Imperio!"

The light left the professor's wand instantly and hit Draco in the chest. Harry watched with wide eyes as Draco's face automatically went slack. Draco's whole body slackened, and Harry was afraid he would fall to his knees. Harry turned to look at Riddle and the man was completely at ease, eyeing down the blond, it surprised Harry how easily the man could cast such a strong curse.

After a few moments, Riddle cleared his throat and commanded, "Draco, say my name."

Draco's eyes glazed over, and he automatically replied, "Professor Thomas Riddle." His expression hadn't changed, his lips had barely moved, and his voice was a dreamy monotone.

Riddle shot the blond a frown and waited a moment before flicking his wrist. Almost at once Draco gasped and kneeled over, shaking his head. His face was far too pale. "I couldn't do anything at all, that was awful." He shuddered.

Riddle walked over and gave Draco and short nod, "imagine it was an enemy casting the curse, forcing you to commit crimes your conscious mind would never dream of. You fought it well though, Draco." Draco's head shot up at the compliment and his cheeks grew pink (much to Harry's chagrin).

Riddle turned his head to Harry, his eyes boring into him and the corner of his bow-shaped lips twitching into a hint of a smile. "Now, Mr. Potter, maybe you will fare better on the receiving end this time, hm?" This caused anger to flare through him and Harry bit back a remark that probably would have landed him in detention. "Draco, go ahead when ready."

Draco straightened himself and turned to the raven-haired boy. Harry took a deep breath and readied himself. Draco's face was straight-set with determination and he raised his wand straight at him. "Imperio!"

Harry braced himself as he felt the spell hit him, covering him like a blanket. He felt fuzz starting to seep into his mind and melt his thoughts away. Harry imagined Riddle watching wearing the smug smile he always used with him, waiting for him to fail. Riddle was expecting him to fail, waiting for it, like he did at casting the curse and it infuriated him. The fuzz filling his mind tried to wipe the thoughts from his mind, but he clung onto them.

He clung to his anger towards his professor and allowed it to push the fuzz out of his mind. Somewhere, he heard someone asking him something, but he blocked the sound out. He frowned as he started pushing the fog from his mind. After what seemed like hours, he finally managed to push the remaining fog out of his mind. The hadn't realized that his eyes had shut and opened them with a start.

"Congratulations, Mr. Potter. It seems that you are the only one who has managed to successfully throw off the curse." Snape drawled from in front of him. Harry was surprised to see that we rest of the class had stopped attempting the curse and gathered to watch him get cursed. Harry looked up to see Snape giving him a frown.

"Let's see how you fare against someone with experience," Snape said with a glint in his eye and raised his wand to Harry. "Imperio!"

Harry didn't have time to brace himself before the curse washed over him like a wave. He clenched his eyes shut as the fog-filled his mind faster than he could stop, hiding away his rational thoughts. The attempted to hold onto the same anger at Riddle as he had before when Draco had cursed him, but he felt the fog knead out the anger faster than he could fight it. Unwillingly, he felt his limbs begin to go weak and emotion drain from him. His eyes opened slightly, and he vaguely noticed Snape standing before him with a strained expression on his face.

"Say my name, Mr. Potter." Harry heard a voice rumble through the fog like thunder. It was the only sound in the deafening silence that the haze over his mind had created. Harry felt the fog take control of his body and open his mouth, but no sound came out. Why would he need to say Snape's name? Everyone knew Snape's name in the class, so it seemed silly to need to state it.

Snape called out to him again through the haze, demanding that Harry say his name. Harry had to, there was no reason not to say it. He opened his mouth but couldn't seem to form the words, "Hm- "He faltered and tried to close his mouth, but it wasn't cooperating with him. Harry heard Snape demand him to open his eyes and he obliged, but his eyes didn't remain on Snape and drifted off to his side instead.

Riddle was standing slightly behind Snape, his eyes seemed to be illuminated with anger as he looked at Harry and his lips had twisted in a hint of a disappointed smile. Harry felt himself stiffen again slightly, despite the fog that had twisted its way through him. Why was Riddle disappointed? Harry thought as he felt anger flow back into his heart, a frown growing on his face. He had to push away the fog, he had to break out.

With a great heave, he pulled himself from the haze that had clouded over his mind. The sensation was like dragging himself above water and suddenly he heard the surprised voices of his classmates around him. Vaguely, he felt someone clap him on the back in congratulations. He released a breath he hadn't realized that he had been holding and opened his eyes.

The first thing Harry noticed was the twinkle in Riddle's eye that he hadn't noticed before. He had a small smirk on his face as he observed Harry.

"Harry that was brilliant!" Ron wrapped an arm around his shoulders, and he was pulled into a group of excited Gryffindors. He felt slightly nauseous and weak as if he had just run a marathon and being in the middle of such an excited crowd was making him dizzy.

"Yeah, Harry, we didn't think you'd be able to manage it for a while there." Harry heard Neville chime in with a big grin on his face. "You almost said professor Snape's name a few times!"

"That's quite enough, give Mr. Potter his space." The rambunctious group parted as Riddle walked up, his eyes trained on Harry. "Everyone break back up into your previous pairs. Aside from you, Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter needs a break so you will continue with professor Snape."

Still chattering excitedly, the class paired up once again. Riddle watched the students walk away before shooting a wide grin at Harry with a glint in his eye.

"You must be exhausted, Harry, after such a feat. One must wonder if you've had practice with the curse previously, I'm sure your godfather could have been of much help." Riddle's tone was amused, and Harry wondered if the man was messing with him.

Harry met Riddle's acquisitive gaze with an indignant expression and wanted to tell the bastard off. He wiped the moisture that had accumulated on his brow from the exertion he had gone through. "You're insinuating that Sirius cast an unforgivable curse on me, professor?" Harry muttered, too exhausted to put the venom in his voice that he desired. He was light-headed and he needed to lay down.

Riddle frowned and grabbed his chin abruptly, analyzing Harry's eyes. The raven-haired boy squirmed and tried to get away from the grasp, but it was iron tight. He noticed the glint in Riddle's eye and his expression was unreadable.

"You need to go to the hospital wing, Potter, you are exhausted." Riddle's tone was subdued but Harry could hear a hint of worry. "It is usual to be tired after fighting off the imperious curse, but you are drained." He gave Harry one last look before letting go of his chin.

A knock rapped at the door of the classroom before Harry could answer.

A house-elf walked in, giving Riddle a horrified look. Harry was surprised to see how terrified the little creature was. Quickly, it squeaked out. "Sorry to i-interrupt, p-professor, but Madam McGonagall needs to see Mr. Potter." He gave Harry a squeal and added, "It-it is of the utmost importance." Then popped out without waiting for a reply.

Riddle sighed and rolled his eyes, turning back to the raven-haired boy. "As soon as you are finished with McGonagall, you are to report to the hospital wing. No exceptions. I will be checking. Mr. Weasley, ensure Mr. Potter gets to the headmistress and then straight to madam Pomphrey." He gave the redhead a serious look.

Ron nodded at the professor and gave Hermione an apologetic smile, then led Harry out of the room.

"What do you think happened?" Ron asked curiously as they made their way down the corridor towards the headmistress' office.

"I dunno." Harry shrugged but a sense of dread filled his belly.

Harry didn't realize it but the tragedy that had happened last night was going to change his life.

 ***I watched a YouTube Video MovieFlame and they mentioned this idea. I'm not sure if it's accurate in Cannon or not but it will be in this story!**

 **So, after the next couple of chapters, Harry's life is going to change quite a bit, there is going to be much more action going on and Tom will play a larger role.**

 **I don't plan on focusing too much on Harry's grief. I am not great at writing about it, so that is why I am planning on skipping over the scene where they tell Harry about what happened, but I will summarize it in the next chapter.**

 **Reviews keep me motivated to write!**

 **I love you all! Thank you for reading my brain-child.**


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